


Respect

by Heeley



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Coffee, F/M, German beer, Lucille joins the party, More Sex, Sex, Smut, Violence, cocky Negan, eventual knifeplay, intense Negan, sexy negan, sexy stuff, walker deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeley/pseuds/Heeley
Summary: Catherine finds herself a ‘guest’ of Negan and his Saviors. Prisoner is more like it. Her one goal is to escape, but with Negan breathing down her neck and whispering innuendos into her ears, she might find it harder than she imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatherineMorgenstern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineMorgenstern/gifts).



> This started out as a tumblr gift for the marvellous CatherineMorgenstern. It has since spiralled into a full blown story. I've rated it as 'M' but in all honesty when the fun stuff starts, I may change it to explicit. Thanks and enjoy!

The dream started immediately. It always did, hovering like an oily shadow that grew bigger the moment she closed her eyes. There was no escaping it and it never changed. Ever. 

She was laying in bed, her eyes screwed shut against the bright sunlight that streamed through the window and onto her face, almost burning the skin on her cheek. Outside, the sound of a bird interrupted the silence. Catherine scowled and contemplated using her gun to shoot the damn thing. She even reached across to tap her fingertip against the handle of her glock. One, two, three times. 

A startled yell eclipsed the birdsong, instantly bringing Catherine to her feet. In the blink of an eye she was standing in the yard. The edges of the world blurred as she saw her friend, Alexx, standing beside a walker. He was dead. His head caved in, rotting brain, putrid blood; and yellow pus leaking onto the grass around him. Her eyes traced over his bloated features, pausing on the smear of blood circling his lips. It looked fresh. 

Time slowed as the dream switched into a nightmare. The light faded and the air thickened with the stench of death. Catherine's eyes moved from the walker to Alexx. There was a chunk of flesh missing from the top of her shoulder. It was bleeding heavily, staining the blue top she wore a bright crimson. But it was the look in her eyes that tore at Catherine's heart. She knew what it meant. They both did. 

The dream shifted again and Catherine was standing beside a bed. Every breath she took smelt of decay. She could practically feel the heat rising from Alexx’s body as the infection burnt through her. Sweat beaded her forehead and her eyes had a glazed, unfocused look. Her lips mouthed words that Catherine had ceased to hear. But she knew what Alexx was saying. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. 

Catherine shook her head even as her hand lifted and pointed the gun at Alexx. The metal felt ice-cold in her palm and so heavy her hand trembled like a wind blown leaf. Time slowed as Catherine bent lower and pressed the barrel against her friend’s temple. Holding her breath, she met Alexx’s gaze, heart clenching at the anguished look hidden inside her eyes. 

The boom of the gun firing rattled her brain and the room suddenly began to rain blood. She fell back, blinking, but before she hit the ground, Catherine woke, the scent of gunpowder lingering on the air. Her body was covered in sweat and her fingers twitched around a gun that wasn't there. 

“Verdammte Scheiße" Catherine muttered, reverting to her mother tongue as the dream continued to hover on the edge of her consciousness. She pressed the heels of her palms over her eyes and forced herself to stand. To move. 

It helped. Although, she knew the dream would never truly leave her. Dreams born from memories very rarely did. So instead she walked, placing one foot in front of the other until the hours fell away. The landscape changed and she found herself on the edge of a town. 

That's when she heard the sound. It was so unexpected that she stopped moving. She stopped breathing. Everything around her blurred as the off-key whistling floated into her ears. It had been so long since she’d heard the sound of another human being that she didn’t know what to do. Walkers she could deal with; kill or run. No other thoughts were required, her body worked on instinct, impaling rotten walker flesh or running so hard that her lungs felt like they might explode. But another human? Catherine’s usually intelligent brain went blank.

 

The thud of a booted foot sounded behind her.

 

“What the fuck do we have here, Lucille? It looks like a stranger in our fuckin’ midst.” A deep voice spoke in her ear. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing in my backyard, doll?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m walking.” She spoke to the air in front of her, refusing to turn.

 

A low chuckle made her tense. “I’m gonna let your disrespect go this time, darlin’, cause you don’t know who I am. But the next time you speak to me, you’re gonna want to turn around and look me in the fucking eye.”

 

“And if I don’t?”

 

“Shit on a stick!” His amused voice bounced off the nearby buildings. “You got some balls tucked up inside that tight little pussy of yours? Jesus.” He stepped in close, aligning his body along the length of her back. “If you don’t fuckin’ do it, sweetheart, then you’re going to meet with Lucille. And I can guaran-fuckin’-tee, you ain’t gonna like that. Nobody does.”

 

Catherine felt a tremor of unease settle in her stomach at the stranger’s words. “I just want to pass through and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”  
She took a step away and finally turned to face him.

 

In front of her stood a tall, slim man. He was wearing a black leather jacket that shone in the harsh sunlight. A deep red scarf circled his neck, emphasizing black hair and tanned skin. The lower half of his face was covered by a close-cropped silvery beard and a wide grin stretched his lips. In his hand he held a baseball bat that had been wrapped in barbed wire. A gun was tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

 

“Well, hello there, doll. Ain’t you a pretty one. Shit. It would be a real fuckin’ shame to crush that pretty little head of yours.” He sucked air through his teeth and shook his head in mock regret. “But I’ll do it. Yes, indeed, I fuckin’ will. If you don’t start showing me some respect, I will introduce you to Lucille and, as we’ve already established, you don’t want to meet her, darlin’.” He took a sliding step towards her. “Let’s start over, huh? Cause I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Don’t know why.” He grinned but the expression never quite reached his eyes. “I’m Negan and you, well, you ain’t from around these parts, are you?”

 

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she spat out.

 

“Now. Now. Didn’t we just talk about respect? I know we did.” His voice rose and fell in sing song rhythm that she wasn’t sure she liked. “I’m gonna give you one more fuckin’ chance to answer my questions, doll. And to be sure that we’re on the same page and you understand how serious I am, I’m just gonna put Lucille right here.”

 

Catherine froze as he lifted the bat and placed the blunt end on top of her shoulder. She could feel the point of one of the barbs pressing into her skin. Negan smiled at the scowl that crept onto her face.

 

“We’ll start with the simple stuff, shall we? I’m even gonna give you a helping hand. And you know why that is? Cause I’m a stand up guy.” The smile dropped from his lips. “I can tell by that prissy fuckin’ accent that you weren’t born on this side of the world, doll. I want to say you’re from England, but I can detect the tiniest hint of something fuckin’ else hiding in that voice.”

 

“I’m German.” Catherine stared defiantly into his eyes as she spoke.

 

“Damn! You are a loooong way from home, sweetheart.” Negan stared down at her, that infuriating grin tugging at his lips. “And shit. Now you find yourself in unfriendly territory with Lucille resting on your pretty little shoulder. Can your day get any worse?”

 

“It will get better, just as soon as you let me go.”

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Negan’s tongue came out to trace his bottom lip. “Shit. I’m gonna have to check for those balls, aren’t I?”

 

Catherine’s eyes widened when she felt his fingers brush up the inside of her thigh. She backed away, her hands reaching up to her shoulders to grasp the long daggers strapped to her back. They slid free of their sheaths with a quiet hiss. “You don’t get to touch me.”

 

Negan chuckled. “Feisty! I like that.” He brought Lucille up until she was level with Catherine’s cool blue eyes. “However, you see that look you’re giving me? That look that says you want to slide those perilously sharp knives right between my ribs? That look? I can’t allow that.”

 

The snarky reply never made it out of Catherine’s lips. Instead, the sound of walkers filled the air. A low, wet gurgle that reminded her of a draining plughole. She looked over Negan’s shoulder to see at least thirty of them rounding a building. She sighed, irritated that she’d either have to fight or run.

 

“Damn. I guess your day just got worse after all, doll. Fuck. You have the shittiest luck.” Negan turned in a slow circle. Casually scanning the area. “Looks like we’re surrounded.”

 

Catherine turned her head to see another group closing in from the back and sides. There were too many of them to fight off and she doubted very much that Negan would try saving anyone but himself. Her eyes darted around, taking in each of the buildings and immediately disregarding them. There wasn’t an intact door in sight and every window was smashed. But then her eyes caught on the rusted tangle of a fire escape that was peeping from between two buildings. Without uttering a word to Negan, she ran towards the alley.

 

Her boots thudded on the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust. The walkers were still far enough apart from each other that she would be able to get through without needing to kill too many. She held her knives out, preparing to swipe at the nearest. The stench of decaying flesh filled her throat as the walker came within reach. He was listing to the side as he stumbled towards her. One arm was missing at the shoulder, leaving behind stringy muscle and putrid skin. Catherine plunged a knife into his eye without even breaking stride. He dropped, his head splitting the moment it hit the ground.

 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Negan swinging Lucille in a slow, steady rhythm. A pile of bodies lay on the blood-splattered ground around him. He was grinning as he swung, but Catherine could see that he was slowly making his way to the fire escape. Her attention returned to her own route. It was blocked by two walkers. The first she kicked out the side of its knee and brought the knife down and into the back of its skull in one swift move.

 

The second made it through her defences and she jammed her arm into its throat, thankful for the thick leather jacket she wore. The sturdy material had saved her on more than one occasion, even though it was hotter than hell to wear. Whilst it was occupied with trying to chew through, she jammed her knife into its head. The blade slid into the crumbling skull like butter, shoving the walker away, she sprinted to the fire escape. Her breath was harsh and fast in her ears. Fumbling the knives back into the crossed sheaths on her back she hit the wall before jumping up to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder. She missed.

 

“Fuck!” The word hissed out of her mouth in pure frustrated anger.

 

“Tut.Tut. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to swear.” Negan jumped up, effortlessly catching the rusted ladder and pulling it down with an alarming creak.

 

“Holy fuck fucking fuck fuckity fuck,” Catherine muttered, barely hesitating as she shoved him aside and jumped on the ladder.

 

Negan gave a low chuckle. “Well, fuck. I’ve found myself a dirty-mouthed girl with a mighty fine arse.”

 

Catherine clenched her teeth, but continued to climb the ladder. It rattled and swayed, the bent rungs threatening to give at any moment. She glanced down to see that Negan was just behind her, he was somehow managing to climb the ladder with Lucille clasped in one hand. The alley below them was teeming with walkers.

 

She tightened her lips and forced herself to move. One careful foot after another until she reached the top. The area of roof that she could see was clear. Still, she was cautious as she stepped off the ladder and onto the rooftop. A second later Negan joined her, a blood-soaked Lucille held at his side.

 

“Well that was fun. Fuck! Me! Lucille got herself a shit load of drinking done, didn’t she? Take a look at my dirty girl.” Negan lifted the bat up for her to see.

 

Thick blood dripped from the end in a continuous stream. “Lovely,” Catherine said, turning away to look down at the walker-filled alley. “We’ll have to wait for them to clear out,” she murmured to herself.

 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart.” Negan came to stand beside her, close enough that she could smell him. Leather and…something she couldn’t quite identify. A faint, sweet smell that lingered. “My men will be along just as quickly as you can say easy peasy lemon squeezy.” The humour leaked out of his face. “Now, where were we before those fuckers interrupted us? Oh, I know. Yes I do. I was about to instruct you on how you’re allowed to look at me.”

 

Catherine shivered at the deep timbre that rattled out of his throat. It made something low in her stomach twitch in a way she refused to think about. Turning to face him, she kept her face carefully blank. And that’s when she saw it. A flash of movement on the far side of the roof. She shifted, trying to see beyond the protruding pipework that snaked across the ground.

 

“There’s somebody up here,” she said, shifting into a defensive stance.

 

Negan swung to the side, his head tilted at a lazy angle as he searched the area. “Hmm. You leave this to me, doll. I’m gonna show you exactly what kind of service I can provide. Now, don’t you go leaving. I’d really hate to have to hunt you the fuck down. Especially, now that we are on the cusp of becoming such good friends.”

 

Catherine rolled her eyes and looked pointedly away from him. His mercurial moods unsettled her and she couldn’t quite work out how to react. Narrowing her eyes, she watched him stroll away, casually ducking down and around the thick pipes until he reached the other side of the roof and out of her sight. The instant he was gone, she spun around and looked down at the shuffling walkers. There were too many for her to fight off on her own. She glanced at the neighbouring building. The roof was higher and the gap too far to jump across. There would be no escaping Negan.

 

As if she’d spoken his name aloud, he appeared. He was dragging someone behind him. “Look what I found! A trespasser on my land. That makes two in one day and I gotta tell you both, that shit just ain’t gonna fly. Nope. I cannot allow that kind of disrespect to slide.”

 

“Who is he?” Catherine asked.

 

Negan flashed her a grin. “It don’t matter. But I’m gonna use him to show you just how serious I am.” He pulled the struggling man to the edge of the roof and looked Catherine in the eye. “Cause I see the way you’re looking at me, doll. And I really don’t think you appreciate how fuckin’ close you are to dying.” He tapped Lucille against the man’s torso. “This guy though? He gets it.”

 

Catherine glanced down at the whimpering man. Blood oozed from a cut on the side of his head and he looked to be on the verge of unconsciousness. She was about to open her mouth to speak when Negan threw him off the side of the building. A dull thud sounded a second later. Catherine blinked, surprise freezing her in place.

 

“Hell!” Negan leant forward to look down at the alley. “Did you see that motherfucker fly? Jesus. That’s some nasty shit down there. He’s all over the fucking floor.” He shook his head and glanced back at her. “I’d hate to see that happen to you, darlin’. I really would. Now, are you gonna tell me you’re name, pretty girl?”

 

“Catherine,” she replied, seeing little point in withholding such a small detail.

 

Negan smiled. “Catherine. I like that. Can I call you Cathy?”

 

“Not if you want me to answer.”

 

“Just can’t help yourself, can you? Well, Catherine, you’re in my place now and my place has rules. And do you know what the number one rule is?” He gave a half-smile as he waited for her answer.

 

She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

 

“Respect, Catherine. And I can see that you’re still struggling with it. But that’s okay.” He winked. “We’re gonna fix that real soon. Fuck. I’m looking forward to it.”

 

Catherine felt the world shift beneath her feet. She had the most awful feeling that her life would never be the same again


	2. Chapter 2

Negan’s men arrived an hour later. The sound of gunshots and revving engines preceding them. Catherine glanced at the dark-haired man sitting opposite her and wished she hadn’t left her gun behind all those weeks ago. She felt vulnerable without it, weaker. It didn't help that his own gun was clearly displayed. A not so subtle reminder that he was in control. But at least she could feel the familiar weight of her blades pressed against her spine. And if she was honest with herself, Catherine wasn't sure she'd be able to pick a gun up and point it at another person again. Not after Alexx. 

Neither of them had spoken since he’d said those ominous words earlier. But he had fixed her with a look she was sure was meant to intimidate. When Catherine ignored him, he’d merely flashed his white teeth and turned away. Now he was sitting with his head tipped back, face to the sky and oozing a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

“About fuckin’ time. Jesus, I was starting to think we’d be here all fuckin’ night.” He gave that infuriating grin that she was beginning to hate and then had the audacity to wink at her. “I don’t know what we’d have done to pass the time, darlin’. No sir, I don't.”

“I do.” Catherine pushed to her feet. “Absolutely nothing.”

Negan chuckled as he joined her by the ladder. “Damn. You are fearless. Shit. I’m not even sure I want to break you.” He pulled the gun and pointed it into the alley. “But I’m sure as hell gonna give it a go.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Be ready to climb down when I give the word.”

Catherine nodded and grabbed a hold of the top rung, grimacing when flecks of rust scratched her palm. She swung around and climbed a few steps down, ignoring the creak as the metal bent under her weight. Above her, Negan waited until his men were within sight. The moment the two large trucks rumbled close, he fired the gun, peppering the ground in front of the nearest with bullets. The first truck screeched to a halt and a man with shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair rolled down the window.

“Hey, Dwighty-boy! Point your baby blues up here!” Negan yelled.

Dwight looked up and the slight move made his hair slide away from his face. The left side looked strange, almost blurred, but Catherine was too far away to see precisely what was wrong with it.

Negan pointed Lucille into the alley and at the walkers. “Mow the fuckers to fuckdom!”

Catherine looked down as the truck revved and shot forward. The nearest walkers were knocked aside, some falling beneath the wheels where they made a wet squelch as they were flattened. Blood and guts splashed up to paint the bottom of the truck in shades of dirty red. The rest of the walkers were thrown up and onto the hood where they hit the windscreen before falling to the floor.

“Shit! Would you look at that! It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.” Negan shook his head in apparent admiration. “Damn. My boys know how to get shit done, huh?” He switched his gaze to Catherine. “Down yer go, doll. We ain't got all day.” 

She started to climb down, the sound of gunshots filling her ears as Negan’s men picked off the remaining walkers. They’d stopped the truck beside the fire escape and Dwight jumped out to clear the way. By the time Catherine had reached the bottom, a pile of bodies were scattered on the ground. She twisted to the side, taking in shallow breaths of rot-scented air while fighting the urge to gag. The man, Dwight, smirked and gestured for her to get into the truck.

She didn’t hesitate, stepping over the dead walkers and barely flinching when her feet slid on the mushy brains and shattered bones that covered the ground. Up close, she could see that it was scars that marred the side of Dwight’s face. They ran like melted wax from his hairline to the hollow of his cheekbone. Lumps and rivulets that looked smooth and rough at the same time. He was looking her up and down as she approached; a speculative look that set Catherine’s teeth on edge. It was the look of a man evaluating her on appearance alone. She curled her lip in disgust as she pulled herself up and onto the tatty seat. A mustached man was behind the wheel and he gave her a grin as she settled in next to him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Catherine replied.

He huffed out a laugh that made her want to smack his perfect white teeth. She settled for scowling and staring at the blood-smeared windscreen instead. A few seconds later Negan climbed in beside her, scooting close so that Dwight could fit in as well. He touched her from shoulder to hip and then deliberately spread his legs so that his thigh touched hers as well.

“Away we go!” He leaned into Catherine. “Yer comfy there, darlin’?”

"Perfectly,” she bit out as the truck shunted forward and over the fallen walkers. Their bodies collapsed under the wheels, leaving puddles of mushy flesh and splintered bones behind. 

Negan chuckled. “We’ll see how perfectly comfy you are when we get back to the Sanctuary and you’re chillin’ on easy street, doll,” he said, imitating her accent. 

Catherine narrowed her eyes, her lips opening to give a sarcastic reply, but his hand came down to rest on her knee before she could speak. “Unless you want to skip that part and get on your fuckin’ knees as soon as we get back?”

Catherine placed her hand on top of his, making sure to dig her fingers into his skin. “I will never kneel for you. Now get your fucking hand off me.”

“Careful,” he cautioned, sliding his palm further up her leg and curling his fingers around her upper thigh. He grinned when her nails pressed into his flesh. “I got myself a fuckin’ hellcat here, boys.” He wrinkled his nose and squeezed her thigh as the other two men laughed. “Shall we see if I can turn her into a kitten?”

Catherine clenched her jaw but remained silent. She had the feeling that Negan enjoyed pushing people until they snapped. He used words like blades, stabbing them into you with a jovial smile that never quite reached his eyes. Watching for every flinch and tensed muscle that signified his words had sliced deep.

At her continued silence he hummed and removed his hand. But he didn't do it in a normal way; he somehow managed to slide it away in a suggestive caress that made her skin tingle. He then lifted Lucille and placed her across his lap. The blood-covered end rested on Catherine’s knee and with every bump in the road, the barbs dug into her, almost ripping her pants. 

“You excited? I am.” Negan turned his head to face her. “We’re gonna have so much fuckin’ fun, you and I. But first, you're gonna learn a shit load about the kind of respect I demand, darlin’. You see Dwight here? I know you do. That shit ugly scar fuckin’ up his face is hard to miss.” He grinned. “Well, he can tell you all about the conse-fuckin’-quences of disobeying me.”

“Why can’t you just let me go?” she asked.

“Now then, darlin’. I can’t allow you to wander around my territory as if you owned the fuckin’ place. We got ourselves a fuck bucket full of rules here.” He moved in close, the scent of leather engulfing her. “Rules you will learn to fuckin’ follow. Are we clear?”

Catherine stared ahead, her eyes fixed on a clump of brown hair caught underneath the windscreen wiper. It was long and held a slight curl that she was sure its owner had been proud of. “Crystal,” she replied.

Negan hummed, but didn’t make any further comment, instead focusing on the driver. “We on a go-slow today, Simon? Fuck. Put your foot down, my dirty girl needs cleaning.”

The driver, Simon, increased the speed until the truck was flying along the road. The trees a blur of green and brown that made her feel sick to look at. Catherine spent the entire journey trying to figure out a plan of escape. She was so intent, that she barely noticed when they arrived back at the Sanctuary. A large factory that was teeming with people.

Simon stopped the truck beside a set of double doors, switching off the engine and awaiting further orders.

“Home sweet fuckin’ home,” Negan said. “Impressive, ain’t it?” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead nudging Dwight. “Well, get out. I’m just about roasting my fuckin’ balls off in here.”

Catherine agreed. It was beyond hot in the cab and her back was slick with sweat. She could feel it trickling down and into the material of her leggings. Dwight opened the door and jumped out, followed by Negan and after a moment’s hesitation she joined them. The second her foot hit the ground, Dwight grabbed her arm. The cool muzzle of a gun pressed into the side of her head. She froze, her eyes slowly lifting to meet Negan’s empty gaze. 

“It does not have to be like this, darlin’. You kneel for me now and we’ll come to some kind of arrangement that suits us both.” He tilted his head to the side and handed Lucille to Simon. “Yay or nay?”

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I’m not kneeling,” Catherine spat.

“Damn! Every time you open your mouth I get a fuckin’ boner. Shit.” Negan shook his head and walked towards her, stopping when only an inch or so separated them. “You’ve got more balls than all of my men put together, do you know that, pretty? But that sure as hell ain’t gonna save yer.” He reached over her shoulders to pull out the blades strapped to her back. They slid free with a soft hiss that was as familiar as her own breath. She tensed, meeting his mocking gaze, but made no move to stop him. The cold ring of steel pressed to her temple reminding her of the danger she was in. 

“I’m gonna look after these shiny killing machines for yer. And if you're a real good girl, I might just show you my own weapon.” He swayed forward until his breath fanned her cheek. “It's big, and hard, and oh so fuckin’ perfect for thrusting into people.” He moved back and fixed her with a heated look. “But first you gotta kneel for me.” 

Catherine merely blinked, her heart thumping so hard inside her chest, it was painful for her to breathe. Her arm ached from where Dwight was holding her and she knew he would leave bruises behind. 

Negan continued to stare at her, his eyes dark and emotionless. “Take her.”

Dwight pulled Catherine away. She went without protest, knowing that escaping the compound and Negan's attentive stare would be almost impossible. She was led into the building and down a dim hallway. It happened so fast that she was barely able to take note of her surroundings. What she did see made her stomach sink. There were people everywhere and they all stopped what they were doing to look at her as she passed by. Slipping away wouldn't be an option. After a few minutes, Dwight stopped at a door.

“In,” he ordered.

Catherine opened the door and stepped into a small, dark room. It was empty of any furnishings and didn’t have a single window to let in any light. She turned just as the door swung shut. The clicking sound of a lock reached her ears and she knew she was fucked. Instant darkness pressed in on her until her eyes adjusted to the small sliver of light that crept under the gap at the bottom of the door. Outside she could hear a shuffling noise as Dwight moved about and then…music.

We’re on easy streetAnd it feels so sweet‘  
Cause the world is but a treat  
When you’re on easy street  
And we’re breaking out the good champagne  
We’re sitting pretty on the gravy train  
And when we sing every sweet refrain repeats  
Right here on easy street


	3. Chapter Three

Catherine felt fine for the first hour. She felt fine the second. But by the time the third hour crawled by, she was ready to murder someone. Easy Street had been playing on a continuous loop and every fucking word was grating on her nerves. The chirpy melody made her teeth ache and her head pound. 

Of course, she knew what Negan was trying to do with his music and threats and fancy speeches. He was trying to break her. Snap her into tiny pieces and then put her back together in the shape he desired. A shape that would kneel to him and follow his every command. Catherine grinned into the dark. He had no idea who he was dealing with. He could lock her up, wave his little bat around and play that god awful song until the cows came home; she would never break. 

Her eyes dropped to the gap at the bottom of the door. There was someone out there. She could see their shadow moving back and forth, disturbing the patch of light that seeped under the door. Every now and then it would pause directly outside, as if whoever was on the other side was trying to listen to what she was doing. They needn’t have bothered. The answer was a big fat nothing. 

She’d long since given up trying to block out the song. Nothing worked. Not thinking of another lyric or repeating the alphabet forwards and then backwards. Catherine had even attempted to translate the words into German in the hope Easy Street would lose some of its annoyance. But it had only made things worse. She now had the English version circling her head echoed by the German translation. 

Scowling at the wall, Catherine folded her arms and adjusted her weight. Her ass was numb, her temper was foul and the first person to open the door would be getting her fist in their face. The song came to an end and there was a second of brief, blessed silence before it started again. 

We’re on easy street  
And it feels so sweet,

"Dieses verdammte Lied!",” she muttered, cupping her palms over her ears in an effort to block out the sound. 

Another torturous hour crawled by. Catherine now pacing back and forth. She could only manage a few steps in either direction but at least it gave her something to do other than sit on the hard stone floor and twiddle her thumbs. Then, suddenly, the music came to an abrupt stop, leaving a deafening silence in its place. Catherine spun to face the door, knowing that someone was about to open it. The question was who would it be? 

She folded her arms in preparation of the shit she was about to unleash. Her lip curled and she pulled in a breath.

The door opened, revealing an overweight, dark-haired man standing on the threshold. He was holding a metal cup in his hand. The kind people used when camping. 

“Hey. Negan said to bring you a drink?” 

“Is that a question or a statement?” Catherine asked. 

The man looked confused, an unsure smile curling up one side of his mouth. “Ummm, a statement?” 

“You mean you don’t know? Are you fucking kidding me?” She moved forward to snatch the cup from his hand. “Where’s Negan?” 

“He’s busy. He’ll get to you when he can,” he replied, dredging up some courage. 

Catherine smiled, lifting the cup to her lips and draining it in a couple of mouthfuls. When she’d finished, she made to hand it back to him, but quickly snatched it back and up at the last moment. A dull crack echoed through the cell when it collided with his nose seconds before a spray of blood exploded from it. He grunted, stepping back and lifting his hands to his face. 

“Tell Negan that he’ll get to me now,” Catherine calmly stated, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction when she saw his eyes had filled with tears. Blows to the nose always hurt like a bitch and she’d made sure to hit him harder than strictly necessary. 

The door slammed shut, followed by the lock clicking and then the sound of retreating footsteps. Catherine grinned. He’d forgotten to restart the music. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence. And then….We’re on easy street, And it feels so sweet…began to whisper through her mind. 

“Argh!” She kicked the wall in a fit of temper.   
No doubt she’d be hearing the song in her head for the rest of her life. That alone would be worth killing them all for. But first she would torture them by playing easy-fucking-street directly into their ears every-fucking-day for a week.

Negan didn’t come straight away, but Catherine hadn’t expected him to. He was all about control and she intended to let him think that he had it. At least until she managed to escape. To pass the time she undid her hair, carefully unraveling the plait she had circled around her head. She’d lost her brush weeks ago and had to use her fingers to comb through the long, dark strands. She knew it was impractical to have hair that reached the small of her back, but it was her one nod to vanity and she refused to even contemplate cutting it. 

She was in the process of separating it into two sections when the door swung open and Negan strolled into the room. He wasn’t carrying Lucille, but a long knife was attached to his waist. His eyes immediately took in her hair, lingering for a second before meeting her narrow-eyed glare. 

“Well don't you resemble a bright beam of light. Fuck. I might just have to call you sunshine from now on. Would you like that? Huh?” he enquired, arching his eyebrow. 

Catherine felt the muscle beneath her left eye twitch. “I’d rather you didn't.” 

A slow smile pulled at Negan's lips. “Hmmm. And I’d rather you didn't make my fuckin’ men bleed. Joseph was practically blubbering when he came to see me and while I find that fuckin’ hilarious, you know I can’t allow that kind of stuff to go unpunished.” Negan grinned and leant towards her. “But just for the record, I totally dig what you did. Hot. As. Shit.”

Catherine allowed a small smile to creep onto her face. “I wanted to get your attention.” She took a deliberate step towards him. “And now that I have, I want you to tell me what I need to do to get out of this fucking room.” 

“Hmm.” Negan pursed his lips and looked her up and down. “That right there is a dangerous fuckin’ question, darlin’. Why, I could tell you that you need to get down on your knees and suck my cock.” His tongue came out to trace his lips. “Or maybe I’ll ask you to service each of my men.” He winked. “You look like you could take a good hard fuck.” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Catherine folded her arms across her waist. “It’s a pity you’ll never get the chance to find out.”

“Damn! Holy fuck. Are you issuing me a challenge? ‘Cause it kinda sounds like you are and I have to tell you, kitten, that I fucking like it. Shit.” Negan shook his head. “I’m still gonna have to punish you though, doll, there’s no escaping that. No sir. Not on my watch.”

Catherine cocked her eyebrow. “Well then, hurry up so I can get out of this damn room.” 

Negan reached for the knife and smiled. His nose scrunched up in a way that was oddly endearing, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You really can’t help yourself, can yer? Jesus. It’s almost like you want me to do it.” He pressed in close, his breath fanning her cheek. “Do you want me to, Catherine? Huh? Do you want me to take my knife and cut off every strand of hair on that pretty little head of yours?” 

She immediately tensed at his threat. 

“There it is!” Negan bobbed down, his shoulder knocking into hers. “There’s the fear I want to see peeking out of your eyes. Not sure how I feel about it being over hair, but what the fuck ever. To each their own, right?” 

Catherine’s lip curled in disgust at how ridiculous he made it sound. And it was. It was just hair. But it was her hair and god help him if he tried to cut it. His hand lifted and she backed away. 

“Now, doll, I suggest you rethink that fuckin’ move and place your ass back in front of me.” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m even gonna give you to the count of three. 

"One.”

She clenched her jaw. Instinct telling her to charge him and make her escape. It was a stupid thought. She wouldn’t make it more than a few steps. 

“Two.” 

She had to be smart. And smart meant letting Negan think she was capitulating. Clenching her fists, Catherine walked slowly towards him. He grinned. 

“I knew you’d see the light. Fuck. You had me worried there for a hot minute but we got there in the end. Damn.” His eyes dropped to half-mast as he regarded her. “I really thought you’d make me fuckin’ do it. My balls went all crinkly in anticipation.” He dipped his head towards her ear. “Just between you and me, doll? They still are.” 

Catherine rolled her eyes at the wink he gave her and waited for him to get to the point. 

“I’m gonna need you to apologize for hurting one of my men,” he murmured in an intimate whisper. “And then I’m gonna need you to think very seriously about what it is you fuckin’ want. There’s a place for you here, but you gotta follow the rules and until you do, you will stay on easy street. I’m giving you one more chance to keep the hair. You fuck up again and I’ll have Dwight come in here and pull it out of your head one piece at a time. Are we clear?” 

He backed up and waited for her to respond. For a long moment she remained silent, carefully weighing up her options before realizing that she had none. 

“I’m sorry,” she forced out through clenched teeth.

“Really? Cause it don’t fuckin’ sound like it, but I have the feeling it’s the best I’m gonna get.” The smile melted from his face. “You’re on your last warning. Don’t make me bring Lucille to the party.” 

Catherine gave a curt nod.

“Sweet. Now, I’m gonna leave you in here a little longer to think about what you did. And shit, this kind of stuff builds character.” He backed out of the room and swung the door shut. 

The sound of the lock slipping into place was very loud in the darkness. His boots scraped on the floor outside. And then she heard it. 

We’re on easy street  
And it feels so sweet

Her enraged scream blocked out the music for one sweet second and then the tune slammed once more into her ears, but before it did she heard the sound of Negan's distant laughter. 

 

XoooooxoooooX

 

Two days. Two fucking days. That’s how long Catherine was kept inside the room. Food and water were unceremoniously shoved through a small gap by an unknown person, as well as a bucket that she was expected to piss in. The song continued to play day and night, burrowing into her brain with the insistence of a pneumatic drill. It became a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Not that she got much sleep. The concrete floor made finding a comfortable place to lie down almost impossible.

And when she did sleep, it was filled with dreams of blood and gunfire. Of Alexx staring at her, blood dripping from the bite on her shoulder, fear clouding her eyes as Catherine pulled the trigger. And if it wasn't Alexx, then it was Tasha falling to the ground again and again, half her head missing and her brain sliding to the ground with a wet slurp. The guilt would rise in her throat and threaten to choke her. If only she'd been faster, she could have saved them both. They’d survived so much and for Tasha and Alexx to be taken down by a bullet was surely fate having a fucking laugh. It had happened months ago; Tasha's death first and then weeks later, Alexx. But the memory was still so fresh that it haunted her every time she fell asleep. 

Most of her time was spent sitting in the corner, scowling at the door and waiting for Negan to appear. He never did. Instead, Dwight would come to harass her. He was out there now, singing along to Easy Street and preparing to open the door. Deliberately taking his time until he entered and began to pepper her with absurd questions. Catherine hated him. The way he looked at her and smirked made her want to scratch his eyes out. Only this morning she'd spent a few hours fantasising about it. She’d bet he’d scream like a girl the entire time. 

The volume of the song was turned down before the door swung open and Dwight appeared on the threshold. He stood there, holding a paper plate with a pile of brown mush in the center. He winked and dropped the food at her feet.

“Just a little something for you to snack on,” he said.

Catherine barely contained a snarl. “How kind,” she managed to grind out through clenched teeth.

“Well, Negan said to keep you fed,” Dwight replied with a shrug.

“I’m not sure he had fucking dog food in mind,” she spat out.

Dwight smiled and the movement made the scars on the side of his face pucker. His hand reached down to cup his crotch. “I could always feed you something else.”

Catherine felt a bolt of white-hot rage shoot through her as Dwight winked and left the room. The door shut with a loud thud. She waited for the click that signalled the lock slipping into place. It didn’t come. He hadn’t locked the door. Catherine narrowed her eyes at the handle as Dwight cranked up the music and walked away.

He’d never forgotten before. Not once. He wasn’t the type to forget something so important. She clenched her hands and fought the urge to throw open the door and run. But it was so obviously a test that she couldn’t help but laugh. They were going to see if she would take the bait.

Catherine pushed to her feet, stepped over the bowl of dog food and stood beside the door. For a long moment she remained that way, weighing her options. She could remain in the room or she could open the door and see how far she could get before they caught her. Smirking, Catherine pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway.   
Or she could simply wait on the other side. 

Her first instinct was to kick the shit out of the record player that was sitting by the wall. But she resisted and instead carefully closed the door and moved back until she was leaning against it. Folding her arms, she waited, eyes fixed on the blank wall in front of her.

It was Negan who came. She knew it was him without even having to look away from the wall. His presence seemed to cross the distance and raise the hair on the back of her neck. 

“Well, well, well. What the fuck do we have here?” He strode towards her and then bent down to stop the record. “You lasted a hell of a lot longer than I thought you would, doll.”

A heavy silence fell as Negan moved to stand directly in front of her. He grinned in that infuriating way that never quite reached his eyes. Catherine cocked an eyebrow and waited for him to speak.

“You did not disappoint me. I knew you wouldn’t.” He tucked his hands into his pockets in a casual pose that didn’t fool her for one second. “Now, all you have to do is get on your fuckin’ knees and answer one teeny tiny question for me.”

“What question?” she asked.

“Get on your knees, darlin’, and I’ll tell you.” He smiled. “And I think you know that I’m not gonna fuckin’ ask you twice.”

Catherine felt the muscle beneath her eye twitch at his order but forced herself to kneel, repeating to herself that if she wanted to escape, she had to gain his trust. And unfortunately that meant following his ridiculous rules. She was forced to tip her head back to maintain eye contact as he came forward to stand over her. It was a position that was meant to dominate and intimidate her. It didn’t work. She didn’t even flinch when he lifted a hand to press his leather clad index finger to her chin and further tilt her head.

“Damn. Damn. Damn.” His dark eyes roamed over her face, pausing for a second on her lips before sliding up to meet her gaze. “You’ve done the hard part, doll. Shit. It’s practically down hill from here. Just one question that I know you can fuckin’ answer and then you can move your sweet little ass out of easy street.” He grinned, his nose scrunching up in a way that she knew was his genuine smile. “Who are you, sunshine?”

She felt herself tense at both the question and the endearment. Her teeth bit into the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from spitting abuse at him. She knew what he wanted her to say. Dwight had repeated it to her often enough that the answer was emblazoned in her mind. But her pride made it hard for her to even consider saying it.

“Tick tock, doll,” Negan said, dipping down on each word and squeezing her chin in silent warning before dropping his hand. “I’m going to ask you one more fuckin’, fuckity time and, kitten? You better give the answer I wanna hear.” The amusement faded from his face. “Who the fuck are you?”

Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Negan.”

“Good girl. I knew you could do it. Yes I did.” He sucked in some air through his teeth. “Now, come on! Shit. We haven’t got all fuckin’ day.” He turned and began to walk away from her.

“Where are you taking me?” Catherine asked as she climbed to her feet. 

Negan glanced back over his shoulder. “Why, to your new digs of course.” 

He led Catherine through several hallways before coming to an abrupt stop outside a door. He pushed it open and gave an absurd little bow. Catherine scoffed and walked into the room. She spun around, met Negan's amused eyes and slammed the door in his face. His chuckle floated through the door and she rolled her eyes. He was fucking impossible. 

Turning, she faced the small room. It was sparse; a bed, a chair and a table. But it was enough. She immediately walked to the bed and lay down. Now all she had to do was figure out how to escape. It was her last thought before sleep pulled her under.


	4. Chapter Four

The Sanctuary was little more than a prison as far as Catherine was concerned. It was as tightly regimented as a military base. Negan had rules for everything and a points system that made her roll her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head. More points meant more privileges and Catherine had a big fat zero. Which irritated her on an hourly basis because it meant she had nothing to exchange for a mug of coffee. Hell, she’d settle for a mouthful. Negan also had a harem. Catherine had laughed until tears leaked out of her eyes when she'd heard that. It was just so ridiculous. 

Everywhere she went, she felt eyes watching her. Negan might have let her leave easy street, but he’d merely exchanged one locked room for another and this one was just as torturous. She wandered into the yard area, making note of the number of vehicles and who was allowed to drive them. 

Stealing one of the vans would be preferable, but she knew in reality she wouldn't make it more than a few feet before they shot out the tires and probably her brain as well. What she needed was to disappear into the night and put as many miles as possible between herself and the Saviors. Unfortunately, she was watched at night as well. She’d discovered that little annoyance on her first night out of easy street. She’d woken at about 4:05am to the kind of stillness that only happened when the world was asleep. Catherine had pulled on her boots and crept out of the room. The hallway had been thick with shadows and silence with only the occasional snore from one of the other rooms breaking the quiet.

She’d walked slowly to the end of the corridor and come face to face with Dwight. He’d been leaning against the wall and picking his teeth with a toothpick. The moment Catherine had seen him, she’d spun around and returned to her room, instantly understanding that Negan had ordered him to keep an eye on her. And she knew in that moment that she wasn’t as free as they’d led her to believe. Dwight was watching her all the time. She could feel his eyes on her this second and the sound of his footsteps creeping nearer were almost as familiar as her own by now. 

“You lost, little girl?” Dwight’s voice called from behind. 

Catherine tensed, her hands clenching into fists. “No. I’m just stretching my legs.”

“And you thought you’d do that by the exit and the only working vehicles in sight?” 

She turned to face him and forced a fake smile onto her face. “It’s merely a coincidence that I ended up here.” She cocked an eyebrow and dared him to call her a liar. “Just as it’s a coincidence that every time I turn around, I see your rat-like face staring back at me.” 

The smirk faded from his lips. “You want to be careful what you say to me. Accidents can happen real easy around here.” He stepped forward and tucked his hands in his jeans. “You might find yourself tripping down the stairs or trapped in a room with a walker.”

“Where’s Negan?” Catherine demanded, ignoring his threat. If she ever did trip or find herself in a room with a walker, she’d make damn sure he was right next to her. 

“Negan don’t want to see you,” Dwight said.   
Catherine bared her teeth. “Then he can tell me that himself,” she spat before turning and marching back into the building in search of Negan. 

The compound still confused her. There were so many rooms and corridors that she was never quite certain exactly where she was. She knew he had rooms on the top floor. Both for himself and his ‘wives’, but she’d yet to visit them herself. Well, that was about to change. If Negan thought for one second that she was going to sit on her hands for the remainder of her life then he was mistaken. She would force herself into his ranks and gain his trust. And then, when he least expected it, she would disappear and take his guns with her.

She came to a set of stairs that she was sure would lead her to Negan and began to climb. Dwight was directly behind her, so close she could feel his rancid breath on the back of her neck. Catherine barely resisted the urge to kick back at him. She looked up and spotted Fat Joe at the top of the stairs. His nose was bulbous and purple, the colour spilling down onto his cheeks and beneath his eyes. He squeaked when he saw her and flinched. 

“Move your fucking arse,” she snarled. 

He scrambled back, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away from her. She heard Dwight mutter something behind her, but it was too low for her to hear what he’d said. Increasing her speed, she reached the top of the steps and shoved her way past Fat Joe. 

“Fucking pathetic!” she hissed. 

The area at the top of the stairs was less industrial than the rest. The floor was covered with mats and paintings peppered the walls. Several doors were set at intervals; all of them were closed. Catherine could hear the low murmur of conversation from the door that was nearest to her. Without pausing, she pushed it open and saw a large, square room with several couches dotted about. In the far corner, next to a window, was a bar. There were five women sitting inside and chatting. They all looked up at her as the door banged into the wall from the force of her push. 

“Looking for something?” a dark-haired woman asked. 

Dwight moved Catherine aside and entered the room. “She’s looking for Negan.” 

The woman cocked an eyebrow. “Well, as you can see, he isn’t here.” 

“Then I’ll wait until he is,” Catherine said, walking forward to sit on the nearest chair. It was soft and comfy and she could have quite happily fallen asleep in it. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

The woman exchanged a glance with Dwight before shaking her head and coming to sit opposite her. “I’m Sherry.” 

“Of course you are,” Catherine said, allowing her eyes to drop contemptuously over Sherry’s skimpy dress. 

“Watch your mouth,” Dwight warned from beside her. “Negan don’t take kindly to his wives being insulted.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Catherine asked, glancing at each of them in turn. Sherry and Dwight were the only two who would meet her eyes. 

It was Sherry who answered. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.” She lifted her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you want to survive here, then you’ll do as he says and follow every rule he gives you.” 

“And if I don't?” 

Dwight cocked his head to the side. “Then you’ll end up wearing a scar on that pretty face of yours.” 

Catherine settled more comfortably into the chair and let her eyes trace over the side of his face. “Like you?” She watched as Dwight and Sherry shared a furtive look. “Awww, did Negan take your girl? That sucks.” 

“Watch your fucking mouth! What we are ain't any of your fucking business,” Dwight snapped. 

Catherine grinned. She’d just found a weak spot and now all she needed to do was jam her foot inside and kick it apart. She was about to open her mouth and do just that when Negan walked in with Lucille swinging at his side. His eyebrows crawled up his forehead when he saw Catherine and Dwight. 

“What the fuck is this? Are you guys having a party?” He strolled over to the bar and placed Lucille down on top. “Because I think you forgot to invite the main fuckin’ man.” He turned to face Catherine and winked. “That’s me, in case you didn't already know it. Shit. I’m almost hurt. Yes. I. Am. Now, what are you going to do to make it up to me? Huh, babygirl?” 

“I’m going to let you take me on a raid with you and then I’m going to let you tell rat-face here to stop following me around,” Catherine said so sweetly that it could only be fake. 

Negan let loose a throaty chuckle and lifted his hands to make quotation marks in the air. “‘Let me.’ Fuck. You hear that people? Kittycat is gonna ‘let me.’ What the fuck?” He turned to Dwight and grinned. “Rat-face?” he mouthed. “Damn,” he said dipping down as he drew the word out. 

Catherine had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at Dwight’s thunderous expression. “I think it suits him.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” the disgruntled blond spat at her.

“Make me, rat-face!” Catherine hissed back at him.

Negan stepped forward. “Children. Children. Can't we all just get along? Fuck. This is the kind of discord that gives me indigestion. Why, pretty soon I’m gonna need one of my wives to rub my stomach and make it all better.” He looked at Catherine once more. “Unless you would like to volunteer for that much sought after position?” 

“I’d rather not,” she replied. 

“You sure about that? I happen to be very fucking generous with my attention.” He flicked his fingers at the other women in the room. “Tell my little kittycat how good I am at fuckin’.”

Catherine maintained eye contact with him as each of the women mumbled a response. 

“You see? Not one fuckin’ complaint to be heard.” He pointed his finger in a parody of a gun. “You, too, could be satisfied with what I have to offer. All you have to do is say; yes, Negan, let me rub your stomach.” 

She allowed a smile to curve her lips. “Ich würde eher Glas essen.” 

Absolute silence fell. Negan looked at her without his signature grin. “Now, I could be mistaken, it's been known to fuckin’ happen, but I have a feeling that the gobbledygook that just crawled out of your mouth was less than complimentary to my offer.” 

“Well, at least you’re not stupid,” Catherine said. “I won't be one of your wives, but I will make one of the best raiders you have on your team.” 

Negan puckered his lips as he regarded her. “Shit. I'm going to have to give you a shot, cause quite frankly, doll, you have more balls than most of my men put together.” He let out an aggravated sigh. “I do have to insist that you let rat-face follow you about for just a little bit longer, though. That I cannot budge on.” 

“Make it someone else and we have a deal,” she said.

“A deal? We have a fuckin’ deal? Are you for real? Jesus. You’ve been here for five fucking minutes and you're making deals? Fuck me. Well, your Majesty, your wish is my fuckin’ command. Simon can watch you. Anything else that you’d like to request?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I want a cup of coffee every morning and I want my blades. I distinctly remember you promising that you would give them back to me once I’ve complied with your ridiculous rules.” She swept a hand to the side. “As you can see, I’ve done my part.” 

Negan shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Are you fuckin’ serious? Shit. Don’t answer that. I can see that you are. You’ll get the blades when we raid, if you’re a good girl. The coffee you have to earn. Now, I’m gonna ask you one more fuckin’ time. Is that all?” 

“That’s all for now, yes” Catherine said dismissively and stood up. “Now, if you don't mind, I need some air.” 

She didn't give any of them time to speak, merely walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. It was the most control she'd had in days and she wasn't about to give Negan a chance to take it away. She would seek out Simon and follow him before he could start following her. The smile that graced her lips was genuine. It was time to start doing things her way.

And if Negan thought she had balls before, then he hadn't seen just how big she could make them.

But he would.

They all would.


	5. Chapter Five

Catherine found Simon in the canteen. He was eating some kind of thick stew with a spoon that looked like it had been beaten with a hammer. There was nobody sitting near him, but he didn't look in the least bit bothered at being alone. Instead, he was shovelling the food into his mouth as if the world were about to end. Someone should tell him that it already had. A steaming cup of coffee was placed beside his bowl. 

“Hi,” Catherine said taking the seat opposite him and breathing in the rich scent of coffee. “You're my new keeper.” 

Simon stopped eating and sneered at her. “Fuck off. I'm not watching you.” 

“Negan says you are,” she replied, barely able to contain her glee. “So, what are we going to do?” 

“I’m not watching you,” he repeated in a raspy voice that she found oddly soothing. “Dwight's your keeper.” 

“Dwight's a pussy.” She reached across and stole the cup of coffee, drinking it before he had a chance to snatch it back and almost scalding her throat in the process. The bitter taste lingered in her mouth after the last drop had been swallowed. “I’d rather hang out with someone who actually knows what he's doing.” 

Simon narrowed his eyes. “A second ago I was watching you.” He reached across and grabbed his cup, glaring when he found it empty. “Now we’re hanging out?”

“Yeah and we’re going to have so much fun,” she said, grinning at his sour look.

“Like fuck we are.” He pushed away from the table, leaving his bowl and cup for someone else to clean up. The spoon he tucked into the pocket of his shirt. “Stay out of my way.” 

Catherine cocked her eyebrow, but made no comment. Standing, she quickly circled the table and followed him out of the canteen. She had to practically run to catch up with his long legs and ground-eating stride. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“Fuck off and don’t speak to me.” 

“Okay. Where are we fucking off to?” Catherine asked, ignoring the last part of his sentence. 

Simon huffed out a breath. “Are you always this annoying?” 

“Oh, sweetie. This isn’t me being annoying.” She deliberately bumped her shoulder into his. “But I can show you that if you want me to.” 

He muttered something beneath his breath, too low for her to hear and continued to walk. They ended up outside, next to one of the rusty trucks. Simon ignored her as he popped the hood and began to tinker about with the engine. 

“You need any help?” she asked.

Simon looked up at her in surprise. “You know how to fix a truck?” 

“Nope. But it can’t be that hard. All you’re doing is prodding the wires.” Catherine laughed as Simon’s mustache twitched in disgust. His dark eyes flashed in anger as he turned away from her. 

He muttered a swear word and once again started poking at the wires. 

“How long have you lived at the Sanctuary?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Simon straightened up, placed his hands on his hips and glared. “What part of ‘fuck off and don’t speak to me’ don’t you understand?”

“I understand-”

“Hey! Simon!” 

They both turned to see Dwight striding towards them. The sun caught the side of his face and made the thick scars look worse than they were. His lips were pulled down in a smirk that Catherine wanted to slap off his face. 

“Dick,” both Catherine and Simon muttered at the same time. 

She looked across at Simon and saw a smile hovering around his lips. It disappeared the moment Dwight joined them. 

“Negan sent me to see how you two are getting along.” He grinned and leant against the side of the truck. “You firm friends yet?”

Simon sneered and turned his back on Dwight. “You can tell Negan we just found ourselves a common interest.”

“Yeah?” The blond switched his gaze to Catherine. “And what might that be?”

“Our undying hatred for rat-faced arse-kissers.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s an added bonus if they have piss-colored hair.” 

She heard Simon chuckle, but didn’t take her eyes off Dwight’s angry face. 

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” he snarled. 

“Why, thank you.” She crossed her arms and arched a brow. “You got a problem with that, rat-face?”

“It’s a problem because I don’t like it.” 

“You leader here now, Dwight?” Simon asked. “Cause the last time I looked it was Negan and I reckon he ain't gonna like you issuing orders as if you own the fucking place.” 

Dwight puffed out a laugh. “I ain't issuing nothing.” 

“Then issue your nothing someplace else,” Catherine said. “Your presence is making me feel sick.” 

“You-”

“Fuck off, Dwight,” Simon interrupted. “Go bother someone else. Me and Catherine are busy.” He gestured for her to come towards him. “Can you hold this for me?” 

She immediately stepped towards him and reached for the tangle of wires he was holding. “Like this?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured. 

Behind them Dwight was still shuffling about, but when it became obvious that they were both ignoring him, he stomped away like a petulant child. 

“Fucker,” they both muttered at the same time and then burst out laughing. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent tinkering with the truck. Catherine tried asking Simon as many questions as she could, but he told her to ‘shut the fuck up’, which she did after a while, content to just let the time slip by. 

 

OoooooooooooooO

 

Negan stood in the doorway of the compound and watched Catherine helping Simon in the yard. The two of them had settled into a routine Negan wasn't sure he liked at all. It usually involved them eating together, checking the perimeter of the Sanctuary or baiting Dwight. Right now they were messing with the truck again; a truck Negan had told Simon to dump a week ago. The rusted bucket was unreliable as shit and he’d be damned if he let any of his people use the piece of crap and then break down in the middle of a run. Fuck. None of his people were gonna die because a shitty truck’s engine had conked out. Not on his watch. No sir. 

His eyes shifted from Catherine to Simon and then back again. She was laughing, clearly delighted by some god awful joke Simon had just told. Negan narrowed his eyes in irritation. She’d never laughed at any of the amusing things that he’d said. And fuck, he’d said a lot. Hidden inside the Sanctuary’s shadows, he watched Catherine saying something to Simon before wandering away, her sassy arse swaying as she walked. Negan pushed away from the wall and made his way outside, wishing for the comforting weight of Lucille in his hand.

“What the fuck did I tell you about this truck, Simon?” He kicked the door hard enough to leave a dint. “Lose it. I ain’t gonna let any fucker ride in it. You’re wasting your fuckin’ time.”

“It might come in useful.” Simon wiped his hands on a greasy cloth. “It’s solid and only needs a couple new spark plugs. Maybe the carburetor cleaned and realigned as well.”

Negan snorted out a breath. “And the fuckin’ rest. It’s a tub of shit. Get rid of it or I’ll get rid of you.” He saw the moment Simon understood that he’d lost. His lips kind of drooped for a second, before kicking up at the corner.

“You got it, boss. I’ll do it in a little while,” he said, tossing the cloth under the hood and bracing his forearms on top.

Negan felt a tremor of satisfaction pass through him. Leading his people was so much easier when they knew his threats weren’t idle. He’d learned long ago that most people needed a strong leader to guide them. It made them feel secure. As did the rules that he implemented with iron-clad force. People liked to know where they stood. And in his case, it was wherever the fucking hell he told them to. 

“How’s the girl working out?” Negan smirked. “You guys seem to be getting along like a house on fire.”

Simon shrugged. “She’s okay.”

“Fuck me! She’s okay? Why, that’s practically a declaration of love coming from your stone-cold heart.” He shook his head at the way Simon ducked his head in embarrassment. “You got a thing for her?”

“Fuck no.” He smiled fondly in the direction that Catherine had walked. “She’d pull my balls off and feed them to me if I tried anything.” 

“What about if I did?” Negan traced his tongue along his bottom lip. “I would not fuckin’ mind her warm hand cupping my balls if you know what I mean.” 

Simon rolled his eyes. “You're welcome to try. I reckon Cat could give you a run for your money.”

“Cat?” Negan’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “You two girls calling each other pet names now? What the fuck does she call you?” 

“Honeybun. We’re also braiding each other’s hair,” Catherine said from behind him. 

Negan turned around, his lips curling into a grin. “Honeybun? Jesus, Simon. That is the sweetest damn shit I have ever heard anyone call you.” He winked at Catherine. “You got a name for me, doll?” 

Her cute little mouth kicked up in a smirk. “Oh, I’ve got a few.” 

“I bet you fuckin’ do.” He let his eyes trail over her body. “Maybe I’ll let you whisper them into my ear one day. I might even let you ride my cock at the same time.” He leaned towards her, his breath tickling her cheek as he added in an intimate whisper, “But only if you’re a good girl.” 

Catherine scoffed and circled around him to join Simon by the truck. The clean scent of her lingered on the air. He breathed it in and watched her, amused that she thought she could escape him. “I was just about to ask Honeybun here, if he thinks I should let you come on a raid with us,” he said.

Negan watched as her head snapped around to face Simon. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed, daring him to say no and deny her the chance to leave the Sanctuary. He almost laughed when Simone shuffled from side to side, lifting an oil-smeared hand and placing it on the back of his neck. Almost. But not quite. 

“Umm.” His eyes darted from Negan to Catherine. “She’s good. I wouldn’t give her a fuckin’ gun, but I reckon I trust her enough to have my back.”

He saw Catherine’s triumphant grin and felt annoyance rush through his body. “But not mine?” 

“What?” Simon said, sensing the shift in Negan’s mood.

“You said you trust her to have your back, Simon,” Negan replied. “But what about mine? Huh? Who the fuckin’ hell watches my back?” He shifted his gaze onto the Catherine. “Take your sweet arse inside, doll. This conversation ain’t for your ears.” 

He stared at her, waiting for the blazing defiance to fade from her eyes. It took twenty long seconds of eyeballing each other before she backed down. Even longer for her to turn around and leave. He watched her walk away, knowing she was smarter than he’d first thought. He’d seen the shift in her expression. The moment she realized she couldn’t win and her best option was to retreat. He also knew she was trying to manipulate the shit out of his people and fucking succeeding. And that was not fucking cool. She was like a coiled snake, waiting to strike. And he was the one who’d brought her into his home. 

“Hey, umm,” Simon said.

Negan switched his attention back to his right-hand man. He didn’t say anything, merely looked at Simon until he was a twitching, shuddering mess. It wasn’t until a bead of sweat trickled down the side of Simon’s head that he spoke. 

“I do not like what I’m fuckin’ seeing, Simon. That bonding shit you got going on with her? I don't like it. It makes me wonder whose back you’ll have when the shit hits the fan. So, I’m gonna ask you a question and you better give me the fuckin’ answer I want to hear. Who are you?” 

Simon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m Negan,” he murmured, instantly knowing the answer. 

“You sure about that? Cause it looked a hell of a lot like you were just Catherine. She got her hand jammed up your arse? Is that it? Huh? Does it feel good?” He stepped forward, deliberately invading his second-in-command’s personal space. “Is she your puppet master now?”

Simon shook his head. A frantic back and forth motion that caused the sweat to fly off his forehead. “It ain't like that. Fuck, man. You know me. I ain't ever gonna turn on you.” 

“I fuckin’ know that. I just wanted you to fuckin’ know it.” He stepped even closer to Simon, whispering the next words into his skin. “You watch the kittycat and you tell me every-fuckin’-thing she does. I don't trust her, which means you don't trust her. And now I'm gonna ask you one more time. Who. Are. You?” 

“I’m Negan,” Simon answered. 

“Good boy. Now don't you forget it.” 

He backed away and spent a few more minutes staring Simon down. When he was sure that his dominance was once again asserted, he turned away, whistling as he made his way back into the Sanctuary. 

He had a raid to plan and a Cat to test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that this is going to be slow burn and the good stuff won’t be happening for a little while yet. BUT I will be releasing some smutty oneshots on my Tumblr account. Come follow me under the name: jheeley. If you want immediate gratification then my dearest of dears, Catherine, already has several pieces for you to drool over. You can either check them out on her AO3 account under the penname: CatherineMorgenstern (oneword) or under her tumblr account: lasciteognesperanza.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by the delightful CatherineMorgenstern....who is the muse of this piece. Yes. She's real. Yes. She's feisty. Yes. She's awesome.

“What’s the plan?” Catherine asked Simon on the day of the raid.

Simon grunted something unintelligible beneath his breath. He’d been like that for the last two days; muttering and grumbling whenever she spoke to him. She knew it wasn’t anything that she’d done, his mood had soured after his conversation with Negan and he was taking it out on her. Catherine had allowed it to continue in the hope that he would pull himself out of it. So far he hadn’t.

She narrowed her eyes and prodded him in the shoulder. “Shall we try that again?”

He didn’t reply, but his mustache twitched as his lips thinned.

Catherine crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “My patience is wearing thin. I don’t care about your little temper tantrum, but I do fucking care about surviving this raid.” She took a step towards him, needing to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. “Now. Tell me what the plan is or I’ll knee your balls into your throat.”

Simon glared at her for a long few seconds, fighting the grin that was trying to break free. “We roll out in an hour. You stick with me and your job is to do whatever Negan tells you to. No games.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Well there is one more thing.”

“Yes?”

Simon pushed her aside as he began to walk to the trucks. “Leave my balls alone,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

Catherine couldn’t help but chuckle at his statement. If he behaved, then she was more than happy to leave his balls intact. She watched as he joined the others, overseeing the preparation of the raid. Her stomach churned in anticipation and nerves. It was the same feeling that had tracked her since the outbreak had begun. Back then it hadn’t been as bad though, she’d had Alexx and Tasha to watch her back, but with them gone the rush of adrenaline had intensified with every passing day. The weeks spent at the Sanctuary had made her forget how uncomfortable that feeling was, but at least she had her blades back. When Negan had returned them an hour ago, Catherine had immediately slipped them into place, her muscles easing when the shape of them pressed against her shoulder blades. 

As the hour crawled by, Catherine paced up and down to ease her nerves. It didn’t help. Finally, Negan appeared in the yard, his jacket shining in the bright light. The red scarf encircled his neck, emphasising his black hair and tanned skin. A leather-gloved hand held Lucille at his side. He gave a sharp whistle, gesturing for his people to gather around him. When Catherine didn’t immediately approach, he grinned and moved his finger in a come hither movement.

She rolled her eyes, but began to walk towards them, choosing a spot next to Simon. He huffed out a sigh and inched the smallest amount away from her.

“Okay now, folks. You know the drill, we work in teams of three. We go in, take anything of use and then get the fuck out of there. We keep each other in sight and anyone, and I mean any-fuckin’-one, that deviates from the plan will have me to deal with.” His dark eyes settled on Catherine. “Is that clear?”

There were mutters of agreement around them, but Negan didn’t dismiss anyone until Catherine had nodded her head. He smirked and turned away.

“Well what are you waiting for? Huh? A fuckin’ invitation? Move out.” He looked back at Catherine and winked. “You’re with me, doll.”

“Of course I am,” she muttered, glaring when she caught sight of Simon trying to hide a grin.

“Now. Now, doll. You sound a little disappointed. I’m starting to think there’s somethin’ about me you don’t like. Don’t know what it could be.” He swung Lucille up and onto his shoulder. “But it’s a feelin’ I can’t shake.”

Catherine turned her gaze to Simon, effectively ignoring Negan. “Are we going on this raid or not?”

Negan walked towards her and slung an arm over her shoulders. “We sure as shit are, babygirl.”

She shrugged him off, ignoring the urge to turn her head to the side and sniff the leather and oil scent of him. Her footsteps sounded loud as she made her way to the truck Simon was climbing into or perhaps it was because her senses had sharpened. She knew the feeling would intensify the closer they got to town. Opening the door, she pulled herself into the truck and scooted to the middle. She kept her eyes forward as first Simon and then Negan joined her.

Simon started the engine and began to ease the truck forward, leading the raid team out of the Sanctuary and onto the empty road. They drove for what seemed like hours; Negan humming quietly, Simon tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs and Catherine watching the horizon. The occasional walker shuffled by the side of the road, but they looked listless, like they’d become drunk on flesh and blood. Catherine almost asked Simon if he could pull over, just so she could take some of them out and blow away the rust of not killing one in weeks. But she remained silent. It was when the truck was becoming unbearably hot, that the first signs of the town came into view. It looked to be relatively small and very few cars littered the streets. But Catherine noted that the sign welcoming visitors to town had been marked by a large black X. She guessed it had been put there by an earlier reconnaissance team.

The buildings looked empty, the windows shadowed and ominous. There were no signs of life anywhere. It was like the occupants had disappeared overnight, leaving behind their possessions and homes, suddenly understanding that fancy TVs and expensive phones meant nothing in this new, dangerous world. Simon led the line of trucks to the centre of town, parking beside a small bank. The other three vehicles pulled in around them, making sure not to block each other.

“Let’s get this shit done,” Negan said, opening the door, climbing out and gesturing for the others to begin searching.

Catherine watched as they began to fan out in different directions, weapons in hand and eyes alert. Seeing how seriously they were taking it, calmed her racing nerves, but she still didn’t trust them.

“You good?” Simon asked.

She nodded her head, smiling when she saw the hint of concern swimming in his eyes. “I’m good. Let’s do this.” She slid across the seat and onto the pitted sidewalk. The heat pressed against her and she cursed the long sleeved jacket she wore, but she refused to take it off. She’d had too many close calls to risk putting comfort over safety.

“You need me to go through the rules with you again, babygirl?” Negan murmured into her ear, making her jump.

Catherine tried to suppress a shiver as his breath stirred the loose strands of hair by her cheek. “No. I got it the first time.” She turned her head slightly, meeting his deep brown eyes. “Go in. Look out for walkers. Take anything useful. Fill up the truck. Watch Simon’s back and then get out.”

Negan huffed out a laugh. “Watch Honeybun’s back? Shit. You not gonna watch mine, doll?”

“I only have one pair of eyes and you already know they don’t like looking at you.”

“Damn! You are fuckin’ ruthless. Jesus.” He swayed towards her, his shoulder brushing against hers. “Not gonna lie, doll. I kinda like it. Makes me harder than a steel pipe.” He lowered his voice until only she could hear. “You like it hard? Huh? I bet you do.”

Catherine’s response was to walk away, determined to ignore the way her stomach swooped at his words. He was impossible. Every sentence he uttered was drenched with innuendo and although she would never admit it, some of his suggestions were starting to turn her on. Shaking her head, she made her way to a hardware store that was situated on the edge of the town square.

The windows were still intact, but the door was open and she could see various items scattered on the floor. She knew before she even got there that most of the obvious stuff would be taken. But she wasn’t looking for obvious. She was looking for things which would impress the shit out of Negan and the others. Because she knew that she was being tested. Even now she could feel Negan and Simon looking at her and wondering what the hell she was doing.

Boots crunching on the ground, she pulled a blade and slowed down as she approached the door. She paused on the threshold to listen and give her eyes time to adjust to the shadowy interior. Simon and Negan were hovering behind her, but she ignored them, instead focusing on the half-empty shelves. Pulling in a slow breath, Catherine stepped inside the store. The first thing she did was walk up and down the shelves, the tension inside her easing when the aisle remained empty. 

“Clear,” she called out softly as she walked to the cash register. Glancing back, she saw Negan watching her, a smirk playing along his narrow lips. She gave him a dirty look before leaning over the counter to check that no one was hiding. There wasn't and she released a breath she hadn't even realised she’d been holding. The only place left to check was the store room, which she quickly did, once again relieved that nobody was there. 

“What now, doll?” Negan said, amusement flooding his voice. 

Catherine cocked an eyebrow. “Now I raid.” 

She walked up and down the aisles, mind churning as she took in what had been left behind. Her eyes settled on bottles of bleach. 

“These,” she said to a bemused Simon. 

“Are you kidding?” he huffed out, looking at her in disbelief. “You planning on cleaning the Sanctuary when we get back?” 

“Nope.” She moved further down the aisle and crouched in front of a selection of drain cleaners.

She heard Simon's grumbling response and grinned. From the corner of her eye she saw Negan making his way towards her. He stopped beside her, leaning against the shelf and crossing his ankles in a casual pose. Lucille was propped against his shoulder. 

“You want to tell me what it is you're doing?” he enquired. 

Catherine picked up one of the containers of drain cleaner and flipped it over to read the list of ingredients on the back. “Looking for hydrochloric acid.” 

“And why would you want to do that?” 

“Because mixing bleach with hydrochloric acid produces chlorine gas,” she muttered condescendingly. “And before you say it, I know that won't affect the walkers, but it will give you a handy weapon against people. Plus adding a couple of drops of bleach to water purifies it.” 

Negan hummed in response. “You’ve been holding out on me, doll. I’m impressed.” He removed Lucille from his shoulder and bent his knees until he was crouched beside her. Crowding her in. “But I can't help thinking that you just fucked up the tiniest bit.” 

Catherine felt a line of ice run down her spine. “I don't know what you mean,” she said, turning her head to look at him. 

Negan's face displayed none of the usual amusement. “You just let me know how very dangerous you are.” He rocked forward until only a few inches separated them. “Now I have one more reason to keep my eye on you.” 

Catherine scoffed and pushed to her feet. “And take these as well, Simon,” she called, sidestepping Negan and wandering outside.  
Across the street she noticed a hair salon that looked like it hadn't yet been raided. The glass frontage and door were both shattered, and the shards were scattered on the sidewalk. But Catherine suspected the damage was from the Saviors checking for walkers and not from a previous raid. 

She strode across the street and entered the brightly lit salon. A row of chairs took up one side of the room, each facing a dusty rectangular mirror. A pink counter separated the front of the room from the back and on top of this stood a large glass jar. It was filled with clear liquid and a white label was stuck to the front. Curious, Catherine walked towards it and bent to read the label. The words ‘Lolo’s hair tonic’ were written in looping script. She removed the lid from the jar and inhaled the pungent scent of Violet and Jasmine. It was so overpowering it made her eyes water and throat itch. Catherine dropped the lid onto the counter and backed away. 

The next place she explored was the back room. She needed to circumnavigate the counter to reach it and when she did she saw a bottle of shampoo had been dropped. The pale peach liquid had formed a sticky pool that Catherine had to jump over to reach the storeroom. She saw that a layer of dust covered the small space and she knew there wouldn't be anything of worth to take straight away. Regardless, she checked the cupboards and drawers, but found nothing but combs, rollers and towels.  
The crunch of a footstep sounded and she froze, drawing one of her blades. 

“You find anything, Cat?” Simon called. 

Catherine lowered her blade and scowled. “No. I think…wait!” She crouched down and spied a small jar underneath one of the cupboards. 

She reached under and grasped the smooth glass before pulling it into the light. Coffee. A small jar of beautiful, wonderful coffee. A huge grin pulled up the corners of her mouth as she pushed to her feet and rushed to show Simon. 

“Look what...argh!” Her boot hit the pool of shampoo and she slipped and crashed into the counter. Her arms reached out for balance and she connected with the huge jar of Lolo’s hair tonic. It rocked in seemingly slow motion before tipping over and spilling over Simon who was leaning on the countertop. 

“Oops,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING......Don't mix cleaning products....seriously, don't do it.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the marvellous Catherine Morgenstern waved her grammatical wand over this piece. Her endless enthusiasm makes writing Respect so much easier and her insight never ceases to amaze me. Thank you, dearest.

The ride back to the Sanctuary was almost unbearable. Simon wouldn't speak to her and every time she tried to apologize, he huffed and refused to look at her. In the end she had given up trying. The truck’s cab reeked and even with the windows cranked down and the air vents fully open, the stink of hair tonic had thickened the air with its powerful floral scent. Catherine had switched to breathing through her mouth, but that only worked for a few short seconds before violet and jasmine had invaded her senses once more. To make matters worse, Negan had refused to travel back with them, instead swapping with Dwight. 

He’d smirked when he saw Catherine's scowl and outright laughed when Dwight had squeezed his way onto the seat, deliberately squashing her against Simon’s side. She'd retaliated by jabbing her elbow into his ribs. It remained there for the entire journey. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, she made sure to dig in especially hard. 

The only joy she felt during the trip back was from the small jar of coffee she was holding. Whenever the truck hit a bump, she could hear the soft, dry rustling of the grounds hitting the glass and watch the rich brown granules slide from side to side. It wouldn't taste as good as freshly ground beans, but it would still resemble liquid heaven filling her mouth. Catherine could practically taste the bitterness on the back of her tongue and she would willingly cut off a small body part for just one cup. 

Just as a headache was springing to life, the intimidating outline of the Sanctuary appeared on the horizon. 

“About time,” Catherine said. 

Simon huffed out a breath. “What ‘ave you got to complain about? You're not the one stinking like a whorehouse in heat.”

She pressed her lips together to prevent a smirk from forming at his disgruntled tone. “It's your own fault for standing by the counter,” she said. 

“Maybe he wants to smell like a whore,” Dwight chipped in, chuckling when they both turned to him and glared. 

“Fuck off,” Simon muttered, pulling through the gates and manoeuvring the truck into a parking place. 

“Just a thought,” Dwight said, “Either that or you're tryin’ to impress the lovely Catherine.” 

“Why don't you just shut your fucking mouth!” Catherine hissed. “Nobody wants to hear your voice! You're pond scum, the dirt beneath my-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He interrupted. “Whatever. You can cut the crap now. Lover boy has gone.” 

Catherine turned her head to see Simon had climbed out of the cab and was stomping away. She quickly jumped out and called out, “Hey! Where are you going?” 

“I’m gonna go wash this shit off,” Simon muttered in a sour tone that almost made her smile, but then she saw that he had taken the coffee with him. 

“Damn,” she murmured as she made to follow, but before she walked away she looked Dwight in the eye and said, “Wixxer.”

The blond frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Catherine was already walking away. 

“Hey, kittycat! Where the fuck do you think you're going?” Negan shouted from across the yard. “I know you're not gonna leave my men to carry all the shit we collected in on their own.” He crooked his finger and grinned at her. “Now get that sweet little arse over here and start unloadin’.” 

“Fuckity fuck,” she muttered, wondering if she could somehow get out of it. But one glance at Negan's amused face told her that, no, she could not. 

She marched towards the largest truck, passing Negan without once looking at his smug face. The sound of his chuckle filled the air behind her and she rolled her eyes, but refused to look back. 

“Not so fast there, doll. I think you’ve forgotten something, don't you?” 

Catherine stopped walking. “What?” 

The sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears and she tensed, her hands automatically reaching up for her blades. 

“Now now, doll. Let's be careful, huh? Shit. I don't want to have to hurt you.” He paused behind her, his presence smothering the air before he placed his hands on her hips and began to trail them slowly up her sides. “Why don't I take those from you. That way nobody gets injured.” 

Catherine’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't prevent him from slipping the knives free. In truth, she was distracted by the feel of his hot breath on the back of her neck. 

“Perfect,” Negan said. “Now off you go.” 

It took thirty minutes to unload the trucks. Ten more before she was able to track down Simon. She found him in the bathroom on the third floor. The area was usually restricted to those who had earned the privilege of a bath, which Catherine hadn’t yet. 

For a moment she paused outside the door, pressed her ear to the wood and listened to the sound of him splashing and singing an off key rendition of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer. A laugh bubbled up from her chest and she had the mad urge to see him. She was convinced that if she opened the door she would catch him using a shampoo bottle as a microphone. 

Grinning, Catherine opened the door. Simon was surrounded by bubbles, his face and hair were covered in soap as he scrubbed himself clean. His eyes were closed as he continued to rub the suds over his face and sing between breaths. Catherine crept carefully into the perfume-scented room and closed the door behind her. She shook her head at the pool of water that had spilled over the tub and soaked into his clothes. It was almost sacrilege. Water was a precious commodity and to see it used so frivolously seemed wrong. Not that she would refuse such a treat. In fact, she was sorely tempted to strip and climb in with him. 

She crossed the small space and sat on the rim of the tub near his feet. Whilst he was soaping the back of his neck, she took the opportunity to check him out. His arms and shoulders were ropey with muscles and his chest looked solid. A fine spattering of hair covered his pecs and stomach. A stomach that displayed a six pack that she never would've imagined him to have. The bubbles had started to disperse and she could see his cock lying limp against his thigh. He was large and she wondered how much his size would increase when he was erect. 

Simon suddenly moved, bending his knees and dipping his head beneath the water to wash off the soap. Catherine felt her grin widen in anticipation. She only had to wait two seconds before he surfaced again, dragging his hand down his face to remove the excess water. 

“Hello, big boy,” she said, quirking a brow and glancing at his crotch. 

“Fuck!” Simon quickly moved to cup himself and the fast movement caused the water to surge up the sides of the tub. “What the hell are you doin’ in here?!” 

Catherine frowned as the water splashed her bum and thigh. “I’m here to talk about the coffee.” 

“The fuck?” He removed one of his hands and tried to scoop the remaining bubbles into a pile. 

“There's no point in hiding your tug-toy, Honeybun.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve already seen it.” 

“Damn, woman,” Simon muttered. “Bursting in on a man taking a bath and asking about fuckin’ coffee.” 

“I never joke about coffee. Especially if you want me to be in a good mood.” She adjusted her seat and leant closer. “I’m much more fun to be around when I’ve had a cup of coffee. Now let’s figure out a way for you to share it with me without Negan finding out.” 

“I ain't sharing shit with you,” Simon said. “Now fuck off and leave a man to bathe in peace.”

Catherine smirked. “You sure you want me to leave without telling you why bathing isn't going to wash off the smell of perfume?” 

“Huh? What are you talking about?” His mustache twitched in irritation. 

“Not until you agree to sneak me a cup of coffee every day,” she replied. 

Simon snorted. “Have you got any idea what Negan would do to me if he found out?” 

“Iron the wrinkles out of your face?” 

“And the rest,” he muttered. 

Catherine tipped her head to the side and considered what he'd said. She hadn't realised until that point how loyal he was to Negan. Her hopes of using Simon to help her escape faded into nothing. “You're really that afraid of him?” 

“Fuck yeah. And if you ain't then you haven't been paying attention.” He lifted the hand not holding his cock and threw a palmful of water at her. “Now tell me how to wash this shit off.” 

“Get out of the tub,” she said. 

“What? You messing with me?” He gave her a suspicious look and refused to move. 

“No, I’m not messing with you. Now get out of the fucking tub.” 

He still didn't move. 

Catherine pushed to her feet and crossed her arms. “Fine. Sit in a bath full of perfume-scented water. Let it soak into your skin and hair. I’m sure your friends will love to sniff you and tell you how nice you smell.” 

“Shit,” Simon mumbled as he climbed awkwardly out of the water. 

Catherine smirked and watched as he shuffled onto the mat, hands covering his crotch and face crumpled into a scowl. 

“You’ll have to soap up and take a shower.” She studied her nails in pretend nonchalance. “But it would be a shame to let the bath water go to waste, don't you think?” 

“Huh? Fuck the bath water, it….oh...I see what you're doing, Cat.” Simon shook his head. “Ain't gonna work. Baths have to be earned. But if you help me wash this shit off, I might let you wash your hands.” 

“Help how?” Catherine asked, suspicion giving her voice an edge. 

Simon rolled his eyes. “I just want you to soap my fucking back.” 

“Oh.” She reached for a slab of grey coloured soap. “Sure. Turn around then.” 

He hesitated for a moment before turning and she knew by the slight blush touching his cheeks that he didn't want to show her his ass. 

Of course she made sure to take a good look at the firm mounds so she could tease him later on. Maybe in front of the others. The bar of soap was already slick and Simon's back was damp enough that she didn't need to wet his skin. Starting at the top of his shoulders, Catherine rubbed the bar across his skin. She was so intent on covering every inch that she didn't notice the door swing open. 

"Well. Well. Well. What the shit do we have here? Are you rubbing his fuckin' back?" Negan said. 

Catherine whipped her head to the side and saw the Sanctuary’s leader leaning against the doorjamb. He wasn't wearing his jacket and it seemed odd to see him in a white t-shirt and jeans. Lucille was absent, as was the large hunting knife he usually wore strapped to his thigh. 

“Nobody's speaking. Do I need to repeat my fuckin’ question?” He came into the room and stopped just behind her. 

“I’m helping him remove the smell,” Catherine stated.

Negan swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. “Is that a fact?” 

“It is.” Catherine scrubbed the soap over the planes on Simon's back. “A fact you can clearly see happening right in front of you.” 

“Mmmm.” He leaned into her, pressing her against Simon's back so he could speak to his enforcer. “She good at rubbin’ you, Simon? Should I let her rub me?” 

Simon chuckled. “Ain't you got enough women rubbin’ on you?” 

“I’m man enough to take on another.” He tipped his head down so that his breath fanned the side of Catherine's neck and his lips grazed the skin behind her ear. “You up for that, babygirl?” 

“I’m up for you moving,” she muttered, irritated that his presence was making her squirm and even more irritated that her front was getting damp from Simon's skin. “I’m getting wet.” 

“Course you are.” He pressed closed. “You want me to take care of that for you?” 

Catherine moved the hand holding the soap down and slid the bar into Negan's hand. “Take care of him instead,” she said, pushing Simon away and walking out of the room. The deep sound of Negan's laughter followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wixer = wanker (stick with us and we’ll teach you all kind of interesting German swearwords ;) 
> 
> This chapter was interesting to write and I did get a little carried away towards the end, which resulted in two versions. This one and a smutty piece that is in Catherine’s possession…...
> 
> A huuuuuge thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are spectacular.


	8. Chapter Eight

Negan was standing in his bedroom, watching as the light faded with the setting sun. Lucille’s reassuring weight in his hand eased the tension that seemed to permanently reside in his shoulders. Leading the Saviors grew harder every fucking day. It was as if the fuckers wanted to die. Without him, he didn't doubt for a second that they would have turned into motherfucking walkers a long time ago. 

His gaze dropped to the black sheets that covered his enormous bed. They looked almost too pristine, as though begging for him to mess them up. He was about to reach out to do just that, when he heard a sound behind him. A soft sigh. Negan turned around, Lucille held up high and ready to swing. Catherine stood beside the door, wearing nothing but a black T-shirt and an all too familiar scowl. 

“Fuck! You sneaking up on me, doll?” He grinned and dropped Lucille to his side. 

The shirt she was wearing barely reached the top of her thighs. And when he looked closer, he saw that her nipples formed two stiff peaks beneath the material. They were practically begging to be touched. 

“Shit! Would you look at that! Fuck me. If that ain't the best damn thing I’ve seen all year, well, you can just go ahead and shoot me right in the fucking balls.” He beckoned her forwards. “You wearing anything under that, babygirl?” 

“Fuck off. I wanted to see you for...something.” Catherine was frowning as she spoke, almost like she didn't recognise the words that were falling from her lips. 

Negan chuckled. “Of course you did, doll’.” He spread his arms out wide. “Everyone does. Now get your pretty little ass over here and take a closer fuckin’ look.” 

An expression of defiance settled on her face. It should have pissed him off. It did piss him off. But damn if his cock wasn't harder than a steel pipe. Her cool eyes spit blue fire as she sent him a withering glare. 

He smiled, teeth flashing white in the shadowy light. “I’m not gonna tell you to get the fuck over here again, Catherine. You're gonna want to do as I say.” He tapped the bat against his thigh. “Don't make me bring Lucille to the party.” 

Her mouth twitched into a snarl and he knew she desperately wanted to slap the grin from his face. But regardless, she walked towards him, her pale legs flashing in the dim light. He traced his tongue along his bottom lip as he watched her close the gap between them. She stopped when only a breath separated them. He could see the individual strands of her dark eyelashes, the pale slope of her nose and curve of her cheek. A thin rim of ice-blue were all that remained of her irises. 

“Now, isn't that better? Huh?” His nose skimmed the sensitive skin just below her ear, eliciting a slight shudder. He inhaled deeply and was enveloped by the scent of wood-drenched amber and sweet Jasmine. “I am gonna fuck you so damn hard.” He brushed his fingers up the inside of her thigh. Moving up until his fingers touched her bare flesh. 

“No panties? You dirty girl. I knew there was a reason I fuckin’ liked you. Shit. It's like you want me to jam my fingers up inside your pussy and check for those balls.” He moved back so that he could see her face as he slowly dipped his fingertips into her folds. 

“Holy shit! It is wet as fuck down here. Is that for me?” Negan slid one long finger inside her and held it in place. It made her groan and her eyes flutter shut. 

“It's not for you,” Catherine said through clenched teeth. “It will never be for you.”

Negan laughed. “You sure about that, babygirl?” He pulled out until his fingertip was resting against her entrance. “Cause I can feel your pussy trying to suck me back in. And I gotta fuckin’ tell you, doll, it is hot as shit.” 

He drew his fingers away, pausing for a moment to squeeze her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Her hands came up to his shoulders and clenched. “You like that, don't yer? Fuck. I almost don't want to stop, but I'm gonna have to, doll. Oh. Yes. I. Am. Cause you see, first I want to slide my cock way down into the back of your throat.” His hand lifted to hold her neck. He felt her swallow and grinned. “Kneel.” 

Catherine hesitated. Her body tensing at his command. But then a small smirk crept onto her face and she sank to her knees. “Whatever you say, Negan.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her easy compliance. “That's damn right, Cat. You will do whatever the fuck I say. Now, take out my cock and wrap your lips around it. I want to see how much of me you can take.” 

His breath hissed out as she reached forward and undid his belt. The sound of his zipper sliding down made his stomach clench. His cock felt like it was on fire. Everything about her turned him on. Her prissy accent, her wicked sense of humour and her fierce personality. Even the top of her goddamn head that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. Her dark hair gleamed and he had the urge to undo the coiled plaits she wore and bury his fist in those strands. Her pale fingers reached into his pants and curled around his dick. 

He lifted Lucille, placing the barbed end beneath Catherine's chin. He applied pressure until those spitfire eyes were staring at him. “Now, I know I don't need to tell you to be real fuckin’ careful, doll.” 

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what to do with my mouth.” That same sly grin curved her lips and her hand stroked down his length. “Unless you’d like me to stop?” 

“Fuck no!” He removed Lucille and winked. “Carry on, babygirl. Show me what you can do.” 

Catherine smirked and pulled him free. Negan watched as she stared at his engorged crest before dipping down to lick the tip. A groan crawled out of his throat and as though the sound had given her permission, Catherine sealed her mouth around his cock and gently suckled. Her cheeks hollowed and her tongue rippled along his length. His balls tingled as she bobbed down, sliding her lips down his flesh. She held herself there for an endless moment before moving smoothly back up, allowing her teeth to barely graze the underside of his cock. 

It felt incredible. Negan could feel the pleasure building as she once again took him. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. His hand dropped down to grasp the back of her head, forcing her to take him further, deeper. He felt her gag around the tip of him, her throat nipping his cock. He withdrew and then thrust back in. Fucking her with a slow, steady rhythm. The sight of her mouth closing around him was hotter than hell. 

“Fuck!” He pulled out, eyes fixed on his glistening dick. “Jesus! You just about made me come down your goddamn throat!” Negan pulled her up and threw her onto the bed. “Now, lift up that delectable shirt and spread your legs real wide. I want to see every fuckin’ inch of you.” 

Negan placed Lucille on a chest of drawers, stripped off his jacket and shirt and dropped his pants. He kicked them off, along with his boots. Standing at the end of his bed, caressed by shadows, he slowly stroked his cock as Catherine slid her legs apart.

“Shit. Look how wet you are.” He moved forward to kneel on the bed, using one hand to lift her thigh and place it over his shoulder. He could feel her trembling against his palm and chuckled. “You eager to feel my cock fill up your pussy?” He bent down to tap his tip teasingly against her clit. 

He grinned as she sucked in a shaky breath and deliberately rubbed himself on her slippery nub until she was a panting, shuddering mess. “You want me to fuck you, babygirl?” 

Catherine tossed her head from side to side and nodded. 

“Now. Now. I'm gonna need to hear you say it.” He pressed his thumb against her clit. “Come on, doll, I don't like to be kept waiting.” 

She twisted to glare at him. The defiance that turned him on so much clearly displayed on her face. “Fuck me,” she spat. 

“Uh oh. There's that look we talked about. I know you remember that fuckin’ conversation. We’ve had it several times already. Are you really going to make me repeat it now?” He cocked his eyebrows.

Silence met his question. For once he let it go, instead positioning himself at her entrance and sinking inside. She was so wet that he slipped right in until his balls touched the curve of her arse. Her hot, tight channel squeezed his length. And that's all it took for him to lose control. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back inside her. The mattress dipped beneath them. He set a hard, punishing pace. Thrusting into her with brutal force. Again and again until the only sounds were their harsh breaths. 

Negan could feel the tell-tale tingle of impending orgasm racing up his spine. He felt Catherine arch against him, her pussy rippling around him. He pushed into her, his balls drawn up so tight it was painful and then he came, spurting inside her. He pulled in a breath and…….woke up. 

The sheets were twisted around him and he could feel something sticky on his stomach. He reached down, swiping his finger through a droplet of cum. 

“Well, shit. She made me cum in my briefs like a fuckin’ kid. Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some smut! And it’s about time, right? Thanks to everyone who left a comment and have bookmarked Respect. You guys are awesome. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask them, either on here or tumblr @jheeley


	9. Chapter Nine

The days following the raid turned out to be incredibly boring. Catherine spent her time learning the layout of the Sanctuary and getting to know some of her fellow inhabitants. Everyone was still suspicious of her and no one was really friendly, but they did speak to her, albeit in stilted sentences. Catherine had the feeling her presence unsettled them, maybe because they sensed Negan still didn't completely trust her. 

Simon had taken to watching her from a distance; they still hung out, eating and checking the perimeter fence and such, but he’d backed off a little, giving her space to find her place amongst them. She wondered if he knew that she would never find that place. The Sanctuary impressed her and to a certain extent she admired Negan for what he'd done and his ability to keep so many people safe. But she couldn't stay there. The rules and people chafed on her nerves. Everyday the walls pressed in on her a little bit more and her need to be free increased. 

One thing brightened her mood. She now had points to spend. Negan had gifted her with a few extra and she intended to exchange them for privileges at the earliest opportunity. After all, she didn't intend to stay long enough to save them for something frivolous. She was blowing the lot on coffee and anyone who didn't think that was essential clearly didn't have their priorities right. 

Catherine slipped on her jacket and left her room. The corridors were empty as she made her way to the room where she could exchange her points. But she learned those who didn't risk their lives raiding were given other jobs. Things like cooking, laundry, growing food. They didn't earn as many points for these jobs, but they still contributed to the running of the Sanctuary and thus were able to earn privileges. Most of them would be working now, slaving away at menial work to earn the right to splurge on a candy bar. Catherine pitied them, but understood why they choose to live like that. 

She turned a corner and headed down stairs, as she reached the next level she found herself accompanied by another raider, Arat. The stern-faced woman gave her a nod but didn't speak. It made Catherine smirk.

“Hello,” Catherine said, deliberately making her voice nauseatingly sweet. 

Arat’s eyes darted towards her and she scowled. She didn't answer. 

“It's a lovely day, isn't it?” Catherine continued. 

Arat grunted. 

“Glad you agree with me.” Catherine put her hands in her pockets. “I’m off to spend my points.” 

“Already?” Arat asked. 

They’d reached the bottom of the stairwell and Catherine turned to her and said, “Sure. We could be dead tomorrow. Why save something that can't be used?” 

“Huh. Never really thought about it like that before,” she muttered, seemingly lost in thought.

Catherine studied her, wondering if she might be used in an escape plan. Even if she could be manipulated into helping her without knowing it. She decided to test the waters by saying, “Negan doesn't want you to think about it.” 

Arat gave her a fierce look. “Negan fucking saved us. I wouldn't be alive without him. Everything he does is for our benefit.” Her lip curled in disgust. “He shouldn't have brought you here.” She stomped away, turning back to give Catherine a dirty look as she disappeared around a corner. 

The loyalty of Negan’s people were going to be her biggest obstacle when it came to escaping. She was starting to doubt they could be used at all. Perhaps it was because they knew the consequences of crossing their leader. They’d seen the punishment he dealt out. Hell. They had to look at everyday whenever they glanced at Dwight. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, Catherine made her way to the storeroom. There were several people milling about, checking the stock and stacking the produce on shelves that ringed the room. She ignored all this and fixed her gaze on a man sitting behind a desk. He was small with wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose and he had a prissy look about him that Catherine immediately disliked. 

He looked up at her the moment she started to walk towards him. 

“I want to exchange my points for coffee,” Catherine said the moment she stopped in front of his desk. 

The man’s lips firmed into a thin line at her brisk tone. “We don't have any available at this moment in time.” 

Catherine cocked an eyebrow and made a point of looking at the jars she could see stacked on a shelf at the back of the room. “That isn't coffee I can see over there then?” 

“Those are allocated to Negan and his wives,” he said with a dismissive sniff. 

“All of them?” Catherine asked. 

There must have been at least a hundred jars, possibly more, and he expected her to believe they were all for Negan? 

The man turned the page of the ledger he was reading. He didn't look up as he said, “Some are for the canteen. If you wish to exchange your points for coffee, you can do so there.”

“They only serve it in the morning.” Catherine felt her temper rise at his excessively prim tone. “I want to drink it throughout the day.”

“Then it appears you are in a quandary.” 

He still hadn't looked up at her and Catherine had to fist her hands to prevent herself from slamming the ledger over his head. She continued to glare at him as she thought about what else she could spend her points on. Her temper was in tatters, not just from him, but also her inability to leave the Sanctuary and never look back. She felt smothered by its walls, weighed down by its rules, and looked over by its inhabitants. 

Before the outbreak, she had soothed her temper by pampering herself. Soaking for hours in a bath surrounded by candles and with soft music playing in the background. It had been so long since she'd indulged herself in such a way, years in fact. She knew the bath was impossible; you needed major points for that, but perhaps a bucket of water and a razor weren't out of the question. 

Hairy legs weren't mentioned in any of the books or tv shows she'd watched before the dead decided to come back to life. There was never a moment where the hero ran his hand up the heroine’s leg and paused at the feel of fuzziness touching his fingers. Catherine knew first hand that hair grew bloody fast when not kept in check it and if she couldn't have a bath then she would treat herself to smooth skin instead. 

Forcing herself to keep her voice polite, Catherine said, “I’d like some razors. Two. Three if you have them.” 

The man looked up and she swore she saw a glimpse of spite flitter across his features. “Grooming products are expensive. You don't have enough points. Razors in particular are in high demand from both the men and women who live here.” 

Catherine felt a brittle smile creep onto her face at his words. “Of course.” 

He once again looked away from her and the dismissive way he did it made her determined to leave with something, whether she wanted that something or not. 

“I’ll take a cup of sugar and some lemon juice,” she snapped. 

Her request made him frown and she could tell he was trying to find a way to deny it. But he couldn't because she knew he had both in his stores. The raid had found several boxes of squeezy lemon juice and a pallet full of sugar, Catherine had even helped to cart them into the store room. She saw the moment he knew he’d lost. His face puckered and his hand whipped to the side to snag a pen. 

He wrote something down on the rumpled page of the ledger and then thrust it towards her. “Sign beside your name.” 

Catherine plucked the pen from his fingers and wrote her name in looping script, deliberately making her signature large so it would intrude onto the lower and upper lines, destroying his tidy layout. She slid the book back to him and watched the muscle in his cheek twitch when he saw her exaggerated signature had ruined his neat records.

For a moment she was sure he was going to comment, but in the end he shut the ledger with a sharp snap and pushed away from the desk. “Wait here.”

She did as commanded, silently checking her nails as he went to retrieve her items. He came back a minute later, carrying what looked like the smallest paper cup he could find and a bottle of out of date lemon juice. Catherine thanked him sweetly for both before leaving without looking back. There was less than she'd wanted of the sugar, but she was unwilling to argue the point with him. Especially as she knew it was an argument she couldn't win. 

Besides, she had some wax to make. By the end of the night she would be hair free if it killed her. 

 

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The only place in the sanctuary where Catherine felt any semblance of peace was by the perimeter fence. Anyone else would think she was crazy for choosing to sit by the spiked walkers, but once you tuned out their moaning and chose a position upwind from the smell, it was actually one of the only places where no one would bother you. She'd taken to spending more and more time there, isolating herself from the group. But she couldn't help it, they were so annoying and unwilling to accept her into their ranks. Without their trust, she would never be able to escape. 

Catherine sighed and settled her back more firmly against a stack of wooden pallets. The movement caused her leggings to slide along her skin, now hair free and silky, thanks to the wax she'd made. It had taken an insane amount of time, but the results were more than worth it. She hadn't felt human in a long time and it seemed stupid that something so simple could awaken that emotion inside of her. 

Sighing, she moved her gaze onto one of the walkers. It was a woman with knotty, brown hair and no skin left on her face or chest. The muscles, bones and tendons were a dull grey which looked brittle in the pale light. She was attached to a stake by rusted chains that rattled every time she moved. And she was moving a lot. Rumpled pieces of skin were laid on the ground surrounding her, stomped into the ground by her endless shuffling. 

Catherine wrinkled her nose and turned her face away, seeking the blissful peace of earlier. It didn't work; her contentment was shattered and she knew it wouldn't return. Pushing to her feet, she stood and watched the walker for a few more moments before making her way back towards the Sanctuary. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement and twisted on her heel to see Simon, Arat and Dwight struggling with a large table. When Simon spotted her, he called her over to help. 

Curious, Catherine joined them and saw immediately that it wasn't a conventional table after all. “Is that a foosball table?” she asked. 

Simon grinned and put his side down. “It sure as shit is, Cat. We're bringin’ it out for the tournament.” 

“What tournament?” 

“The one we play every few months. Negan says it stops us gettin’ antsy,” Simon replied.

“You gonna play with us?” Dwight leered. 

Catherine gritted her teeth. Rat-face managed to make every word he said sound like an innuendo and it was quickly wearing on her nerves. “I’m not interested in playing with you. Ever,’ she said, looking Dwight in the eye as she spoke. 

“Aww. Come on.” Simon slung his arm around her shoulder. “You might be on my team.” 

Catherine began to shake her head. 

“There's a prize for winnin’,” he coaxed. “And it's one worth fighting over.” 

“Well, why didn't you say so, Honeybun.” Catherine grinned and reached for a corner of the table. “That prize has my name written all over it.” 

Arat and Dwight both snorted, but Simon matched her smile. “Our name,” he corrected. 

“There won't be anyone's fucking name on it if we don't get the table inside,” Arat muttered. 

They each moved to take a corner of the foosball table. Although it was small, it was surprisingly heavy. The paint had chipped off in places and some of the green baseboard was faded, but other than that it looked in pretty good condition. On the count of three they lifted and carried it into a spare room, two doors down from the canteen. After setting it in the middle of the room, both Arat and Dwight left to let Negan know it was in place. 

As soon as they were gone, Catherine turned to Simon. “Okay. So what's our strategy?”

Simon looked puzzled at her question. “Huh? Strategy? Our?”

Catherine closed her eyes in annoyance. “How are we going to win?” 

“Well you win by shootin’ the ball into the other team's goal.” He scratched his chest as he answered and she had to resist the urge to grab a hold of his fingers and twist them. 

"Herr, lass Hirn vom Himmel regnen." She drew in a calming breath whilst looking skyward. “I know that. I meant that we should...oh forget it! Just stay out of my way, got it?” 

“My, oh my. It sounds like my kitty cat has one hell of a competitive streak. You play to win, huh, doll?” 

Catherine felt her lips thin at the sound of Negan's voice. He had no clue how seriously she took this kind of thing. “What's the point in playing otherwise?” 

“Damn straight! Shit. If you and me get teamed up, they'll be no stopping us.” He leant forward and gave her a wink. “Ain't that right, babygirl?” 

“I’m teamed with Simon,” she replied, failing to keep the smug tone out of her voice. 

Negan's eyes narrowed. “That's what you think, is it? Well I hate to burst your fuckin’ bubble, sweetheart, but teams are random.” He strolled into the room and gave a few experimental spins of the handles. “Unless you’d rather pass up on the opportunity of winning the star prize.” 

Catherine folded her arms in front of her and cocked her hip. “And what exactly is this star prize that has everyone so excited?” 

Negan made his way towards her, stopping when only a few inches separated them. He dipped down until his lips were level with her ear. “Ask and you shall receive.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

A puff of warm air hit the side of her head as he huffed out a laugh. “Whatever the winner asks for, I do everything in my considerable power to see they get what they fuckin’ want.”

Her heart stuttered at his words. “Anything?” 

Negan closed the distance between them even further. “Within reason, babygirl. Within reason.” He stepped away and clapped his hands. “What is this? Some kinda fuckin’ meetin’? Let's get this show on the road.” 

With that declaration, Negan walked out of the room and towards the loading area. Catherine trailed behind him, thinking about what she could ask for. Her freedom was out of the question. Although she could ask for the impossible, have it refused and then settle for something she desperately wanted. And what she wanted were her weapons. She paused when they entered the room, watching as Negan made his way through the crowd that had already gathered and up the metal staircase of the landing that would overlook them. 

He lifted Lucille and tapped her against the railing, which instantly silenced the room. 

“The time has come for us to hold our annual foosball tournament. Now, I know yours truly won last fuckin’ time, but do not let that dissuade you from participating.” He grinned infuriatingly as he looked down on the people. “Even though we all know I am hands down the best player here, you should still give it a go. Everyone needs a fuckin’ goal in life and if that goal is beating me? Well shit. Who am I to complain.”

Catherine rolled her eyes at his arrogance. The man was impossible. She glanced around the room and saw everyone looking up at him with adoring eyes. Not one person gave even a hint of disliking the man. 

“Any of you fuckers that wanna play should have Dwight put down your name.” Negan dragged the barbed tip of his bat against the yellow handrail in front of him. “Am I speakin’ in tongues? Get to it!” 

The crowd started to make their way towards a table set against a wall across the room. They formed an orderly queue and by the time Catherine got there, she was last in line. Whilst she waited for her turn, she counted the people in front and began to calculate how many games she would need to win in order to make it to the final. This little tournament was a Saviors only event, so, including herself, there were 32 people, 33 counting Negan. One person would need to stand down in order for the teams to match up. By her math it would be 16 teams. Which meant this shindig must be structured like a regular soccer tournament, meaning they’d be starting out with the Round of the Last 16 and go to quarterfinals and semifinals from there, culminating in the finale.

She doubted - considering the number of people - that she would be lucky enough to gain Simon as her partner. She just hoped she wouldn't end up with someone who didn't know their left from their right. And it looked as if there might be a few of them in line ahead of her. It took about five minutes for her to reach a smirking Dwight. 

“Name,” he said. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Catherine replied. When he didn't answer she said, “Cat. Can you spell that by yourself or do you need help?” 

Dwight grinned. “I think I got it, darlin’.” He started to write on the small slip of paper in front of him. “B...i….t....c....h, right?” 

Catherine gave him a smile that could have cut glass. “Well, aren't you clever?” 

“I like to think so,” he said, folding the paper and placing it with the others in a box. He then walked away, presumably taking it to Negan. 

She watched as he climbed the stairs, his dirty blond hair easy to spot in the gloom. When he reached Negan, he passed him the box and then leant forward to murmur something in his ear. 

“You ever play foosball before, Cat?” Simon said from behind her. 

“Shit!” Catherine spun around. “Don't sneak up on me like that!” She gave him a light punch on the arm. “And to answer your question; yes. I have.” 

“You any good?” 

Catherine shook her head in mock disappointment. “You expect me to answer that when there's a chance we're about to become enemies?” 

“Enemies? Shit, Cat. It's just a game,” Simon muttered. 

“Pffft. That sounds like something a loser would say.” She smiled sweetly as she said it, but he just huffed and looked up at Negan as he started to rattle the box. 

“It seems that we have one too many people.” He gave a wolfish smile and tapped the corner of the box onto the handrail. “Someone needs to take one for the team and step the fuck back. Do we have a volunteer?” 

Nobody stepped forward. After a few moments, Catherine began to see people giving her pointed looks. She crossed her arms and met each set of eyes with a glare. It was Arat who finally spoke. But not to offer herself as the sacrifice. 

“The new girl shouldn't play.” There were murmurs of agreement. “She's only just arrived. Why should she get a chance to win?” 

Negan tilted his head to the side and bobbed his head in a way that was clearly fake. “You agree, doll? Should we exclude you from our little game?” 

“Actually, I think it’s you who should step down,” she replied. 

“Say what now?” A slow smile began to creep onto his face, but it contained no hint of humour. “I know you did not just say that. Fuck. Those balls of yours are growing again, doll. Careful they don't get too big, I might need to cut those fuckers off.” 

Catherine heard the threat beneath his words. Everyone did. She waited a moment, allowing the tension to grow, knowing that showing Negan any kind of weakness would be the quickest way to lose any respect she'd gained. 

“Oh, come on. How fair is a tournament with you in it?” She looked around at the rest of the Saviors. More than half were avoiding her gaze. “Given a choice between losing to you or winning and having to deal with your bad temper, which do you think people will choose?” 

Negan narrowed his eyes and swept his dark stare around the room. What he saw made his lips thin. “I think you might be fuckin’ right, doll. Looks like I’ll be needin’ to have a talk with my people. Yep, indeed and one of us ain't gonna like that conver-fuckin’-sation.” His attention switched back to Catherine. “So you think I should step down, huh?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

He swiped his tongue across his lips in a gesture that warned of how pissed he was but was trying to contain it. He again tapped the edge of the box onto the handrail, this time harder and with no discernible rhythm. 

“Very well. Your wish is my fuckin’ command. I won't play.” The beginnings of a smile touched his lips. “But I will be your referee and a damn fine one I’ll make, even if I do say so myself.” 

Catherine grit her teeth, but was unable to say anything after she'd just managed to prevent him from playing in the first place. 

“Now let's get on with pickin’ teams, shall we?” He lifted his hand in the air and wiggled his finger in what was supposed to be a dramatic gesture. After several moments he dropped his hand into the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Handing the box to Dwight, he carefully unfolded it and called out, “Ted!” 

A cheer went up around the room and Negan grinned. “And the fearless Ted will be teamed with…” His hand once more dipped into the box. “Mike the spike! Quite the fucking’ team. The rest of you guys should start shittin’ your pants.” 

On and on it went. Negan called names, the crowd cheered and Catherine became more and more irritated. Finally her name was called. The crowd didn't cheer. 

“Let's see what poor fool is lumbered with you, doll.” He gave her a wink, which she ignored in favour of trying to telepathically make Simon’s name jump into his hand. 

Negan glanced at the paper he held and smirked. “It's your lucky day, darlin’! I hope you and Dwighty-boy will be very happy together.” 

Catherine felt her insides drop. She was certain that the sour look covering Dwight’s face was mirrored on hers. Next to her, she heard the rattling sound of Simon chuckling, but she refused to look at him. She refused to look at anyone. 

After a few more moments Negan had called out all 32 people, he then spent a few minutes organising who would play against who in the first round. Dwight and Catherine were put against Gavin and John. Two idiots that were high fiving each other, already assuming they’d won. Catherine snorted and turned, finding herself face to face with her teammate. 

Dwight had a scowl on his face and his arms were crossed like a petulant schoolboy. 

Catherine swallowed her anger. “I don't like you and you don't like me. But I want that prize, so I’m willing to put aside my animosity until the tournament is finished. Agreed?” 

“Agreed. Just let me do the work and stay outta my way, pretty.” 

"Please. I'm European. It’s in my blood. I could beat you at 'Fußball' in my sleep." 

And with that they separated until it was their turn to play. Catherine spent her time studying the other teams. Negan's idea of refereeing seemed to be calling out various points of play and egging each team on. ‘Did you fuckin’ see that?!’ seemed to be his favourite phrase. She spotted only one or two that looked like they really knew what they were doing and might offer an actual challenge; the rest were pathetic. Finally, it was their turn to play and when Negan called out their names, it was with extra enthusiasm.

Catherine scowled and strode towards the table, beating Dwight at the last second. 

She found herself catching Gavin’s eye, who seemed to think leering at her would put her off. He was wrong. 

“And now the game we’ve all been waitin’ for!” Negan called out, standing at the foot of the table with the marble-sized ball in his hand and a coin in the other. “Will the victors be Dwight and Cat or Gavin and John.” He dipped down and pivoted on the heel of his boot. “I know who the fuck we're rootin’ for,” he mock-whispered to the crowd. 

Catherine rolled her eyes. He could be such an ass when he wanted to be, which was all the time as far as she was concerned, but instead of listening to his showboating, Catherine reached for the handles and gave an experimental spin. They moved smoothly with only the slightest squeak. 

“Ah-ah. You don't get to touch it until I say you do, doll.” The words were accompanied with that shit-eating grin that oozed with innuendo. “You have to wait until I toss the fuckin’ coin. I’ll even let you call it.” 

He didn't give her time to think as he flipped the dime in the air. 

“Heads!” she called out before it could hit his palm. 

Negan caught the coin and wandered her way. He leant towards her and swung an arm around her shoulder, encasing her in his scent. He lifted his other hand and slowly unfurled his fingers. 

“Heads it is! Fuck. Luck is on your side today, huh?” He slid the arm across her shoulder down until his palm landed on the swell of her hip. “Your choice, doll. Red or blue?” 

Catherine didn't even hesitate before saying, “Red.” 

Before the world went to shit, she'd been a fan of Bayern Munich and their team colours had been red and white. No way was she choosing blue if she had the choice. 

“Okay people, take your places.” Negan squeezed Catherine’s hip before stepping away and allowing them to take their positions. 

Dwight rushed to take the end containing their goal and Catherine was more than happy to let him have it. She always preferred playing offence rather than defence anyway. But god help him if he let too many goals into their net, she’d kill him if they lost and her prize was snatched away from her. 

Gavin ended up opposite her and for a few moments they stared at each other, neither willing to look away first. Just as she was contemplating jumping across the table and popping his eyes out, Negan whistled and dropped the ball into the centre of the table. The next few minutes were fast and furious, each player moving their hands from one handle to the next with swift, precise moves. Surprisingly, Dwight didn't get in her way, occasionally his shoulder would knock into hers, but other than that he stayed on his side of the table. Unlike the other team who both kept bumping elbows whenever they took a shot, which caused them to lose their grips on the handles. It cost them several goals early in the game, which they were unable to catch up on. 

The ten minute time limit on the game sped by. One moment Negan had whistled to start the game and the next he was whistling to end it. Catherine and Dwight had annihilated them. One win down, three to go. 

Surprised at the ease of their win, Catherine turned to Dwight and deadpanned, "You're my new favourite person."

 

He blinked but didn't say anything. 

“Well, would you look at that,” Negan said. “Our lovebirds are gettin’ along! Some fucker go book the chapel and send for that creepy-assed priest Rick the prick has stuffed up his tush. Can I give you away, doll?” 

“Sure. The ceremony will be next week.” Catherine replied with heavy sarcasm. 

He was trying to put her off, but there was no way in hell she would allow him to. And that was exactly what he was trying to do, she could tell by the glint in his eyes as he spoke to her. Simon joined her a few minutes later, a ridiculous grin stretching his face. 

“You played well,” he said. 

She scowled and gave him a dirty look. “Shut up.” 

Honeybun lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender and shook his head. “Can't a guy congratulate you on your win without getting his ear chewed off?” 

Catherine cocked an eyebrow and settled her cool stare on him. “Of course you can, but we both know that's not what you were doing. You came over to tease me about Rat-face.” 

Simon chuckled and turned to lean against the wall beside her. “Yep. You two played awfully well together.”

She felt her lips fold into a thin line. Annoyance fought with honesty and the latter won. “He wasn't completely useless.” 

“Hurt you to sat that, didn't it?” 

“Fuck yeah it did.” 

A huge grin split his face. “So, you gonna let me be best man?” 

Catherine snarled. “No. But I will let you be my bridesmaid. I bet you’d look good in a pretty pink dress.” 

Simon huffed out a laugh. “Peach is more my colour.” 

She twisted her head to face him. “Can we talk about important stuff now, like who you think will be the biggest challenge?” She saw his frown and quickly added, “ Apart from yourself, of course.” 

Simon's eyes narrowed as his gaze flittered around the room and sought out the remaining players. “Arat and David. They're both competitive fuckers and aren't above cheatin’ if they can get away with it.” 

“I see. Then let's hope you face them before I have to.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

It was then that Dwight joined them, effectively ending their conversation. “I hope you ain't discussing tactics with the enemy.”

Simon scoffed. “Fuck off.” 

Dwight thumped him on the arm with a little more force than necessary. “Negan’s about to announce the next round of matches.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: Herr, lass Hirn vom Himmel regnen= (Dear) Lord, let it rain brains/Please let brains fall from the sky

**Author's Note:**

> Catherine is based on a real person. Her username is CatherineMorgenstern and she is just as fiesty as Negan's Catherine. She also beta'd this chapter, offers endless support and is wonderfully scary and badass. (Thanks, dear)
> 
> Verdammte Scheiße = Holy Shit


End file.
